LIBRARY 


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BIRTHDAY  POEMS 

OF 

THE  CENTURY 

BY 
ERNEST  GREEN  DODGE 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  HOPE  DUNLAP 


CHICAGO: 

M.  A.  DONOHUE  &  CO. 
J90J 


Copyright,  1901 
By   ERNEST  GREEN  DODGE 


MY  DEAR  FATHER  AND  MOTHER  LIVING 

AND  TO  MY  OWN  MOTHER 

GONE  BEYOND 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

SONGS  OF   ENLARGEMENT 

The  Poet  of  the  Future 9 

The  Call  to  Life 1 1 

One  Song,    Two  Listeners 12 

Pharao's  Wind 13 

The  Ladder  of  Conversion 21 

The  Bigot  and  the  Truth 25 

MANIFOLD    IDEALS 33 

THE  TWILIGHT  OF  THE  RACE 

The  Epic  of  Wye-hha 59 

The  Epic  of  Fire  and  Mud 72 

The  Epic  of  Ketoitoi 82 

The  Epic  of  Big  Hunting 98 

The  Epic  of  the  Bow-spear 1 10 

THE  GALDRAKEN'S  DAUGHTER 119 

LYRICS  OF  A  LIFE 

Cradle  Song 165 

A  Child's  Prayer 166 

Questionings 1 66 

A  Life  Alone 167 

Lenora 167 

Song  in  Ionic  Rhythm 168 


A  Cry 169 

Birth  and  the  Poet 1 69 

A  Bachelor's  Longing 170 

When  Patience  Starves 1 70 

The  Return  of  Faith 171 

Abashed 171 

Three  Greetings 172 

At  Rest 173 

The  Love  Light 1 74 

A  Lover's  Puzzle 175 

God  of  the  Moonlight 176 

A  Song  of  Tide 177 

Lover's  Riches 178 

Sweet  Jealousy 179 

Baby  May i  So 

Bereavement 1 8 1 

Time 1 8 1 

Optimism 182 

Noonday 183 

The  Joy  of  Trying 183 

Old  Age 183 

Life  Eternal 184 

The  Departed 185 

Talents...,  186 


Songs  of  Enlargement. 


Songs  of  Enlargement* 


THE  POET  OF  THE  FUTURE. 

Strong  poet  of  the  coming  age,  whose  voice 
Shall  leave  the  vale  of  common  things, 
Shall  bear  the  nations  on  its  wings, 

And  bid  the  skies  rejoice, 

Thou  mayst  not  tread  where  other  bards  have  trod, 
Who   mid   the   silence   of   the   race 
With  childlike  voice  won  noble  place 

And  turned  our  thoughts  to  God. 

A  thousand  hearts  now  glow  with  lyric  fire ; 

Each  zephyr  wafts  a  poet's  song, 

The  singer's  lost  amid  the  throng, 
The  universal  choir. 


O  thou  who,  winged  with  nobler  breath  than  they, 
And  driven  great  by  this  same  throng, 
Shall  pass  thy  fellows  and  be  strong, 

We  wait  for  thee  to-day. 


io  Songs  of  Enlargement. 

While  earth  is  choral  with  the  multitude, 
And  in  the  anthem  we  rejoice, 
We  watch  for  thine,  the  solo  voice, 

The  bard's  estate  renewed. 


Be  mine,  my  singing  heart,  to  join  the  choir 
That  hymns  :    "The  Poet's  song  be  great ! 
Pause  not  at  earth,  try  heaven's  gate, 

Bring  down  the  sacred  fire!" 

Nay,  more,  so  bold  my  heart  is  grown,  I  crave, 

To  be  not  wholly  of  the  throng, 

Myself  to  thrill  a  noble  song 
High  up  to  God  who  gave, 

And  fill  in  part,  O  Voice,  thy  vacant  place, 

A  few  of  being's  truths  to  learn, 

Into  the  great  unfelt  to  yearn, 
And  cry  before  thy  face ! 


The  Call  to  Life.  n 


THE  CALL  TO  LIFE. 

Two  cotyledons,  tender  and  small, 
Out  from  an  acorn  creep  and  crawl. 
Come,  little  oakling,  grow  to  a  tree, 
Stretch  thy  branches  over  the  lea ! 
"Nay,  sweet  mosses  around  me  grow ! 
Nay,  for  aloft  the  storm  winds  blow ! 
Yea,  and  all  that  I  now  am  dies — 
Other  leaves  come  if  the  sapling  rise. 
Oh,  let  me  live  as  I  am !" 

Soul  of  a  child  o'er  the  threshold  creeps, 
Out  from  the  mother-love's  infinite  deeps. 
Come,  little  heart,  grow  up  to  a  man, 
Learning  to  dare  what  a  hero  can ! 
"Nay,  'tis  sweet  to  linger  and  play ! 
Oh,  but  I  shrink  to  enter  the  fray — 
All  that  I  now  love  leaving  behind, 
Beautiful  fancy  of  childhood's  mind. 
Oh,  let  me  live  as  I  am !" 

Idle  prayer, 
For  everywhere 
Strife   is   life 
And    life    is    fair! 
'Tis  the  God  within  unceasing 

Makes  the  oaken  heart  to  grow, 
Life  forevermore  increasing, 
Better  thus,  the  angels  know ! 


12  Songs  of  Enlargement. 


ONE  SONG— TWO  LISTENERS. 

"O    God!     O    God! 

There  is  room  in  my  heart  for  Thee !" 
So  sang  the  choir  down  in  the  Broadway  church. 
One  little  soul  that  listened  answered  "Yes." 
The  smaller  meaning  of  the  infinite  words 
Alone  was  understood.    "  Tis  true,"  thought  he, 
"Too  long  I've  wandered  careless ;  now  I  know 
A  God-forgetting  life  is  worthless,  vain. 
No  more  earth's  busy  cares  and  frivolous  joys 
Shall  crowd  Thee  out.  There  is  room  in  my  heart  for  Thee  !" 

"O    God!     O    God! 
There  is  room  in  my  heart  for  Thee !" 
So  sang  the  choir  down  in  the  Broadway  church. 
One  greater  soul  that  listened  answered  "Yes." 
:  'Tis  true.     All  things  are  mine  when  I  awake, 
Now  sleeping ;  the  seed  of  God  in  me  expands ! 
All  knowledge  waiteth  till  I  grow  to  it. 
All  pains  which  God  endures  shall  come  to  me. 
All  joys  shall  follow,  till  the  soul  o'erflows; 
My  goal  is  God !  There  is  room  in  my  heart  for  Thee  T 


Pharao 's   Wind.  /?. 


PHARAO'S    WIND. 


PART    I.       TO   SCOURGING. 


I  sing  of  a  lonely  wind, 
Whose  soul,  a  human  soul, 
Bruised  with  wandering,  fruitlessly,  far, 
No  end  and  no  rest,  lived  on ! 


Pharao's  life  was  gay, 
Nine  were  his  shapely  wives, 
Slaves  unreckoned,  un-taled  his  wealth ; 
He  trowed  that  his  soul  was  blest. 


But  the  time  nigh  fell  for  to  die ; 
For  his  breath  did  Osiris  send. 
"Oh,  drive  me  not  hence  from  this  kindly  flesh !" 
He  prayed,  and  gained  his  request. 


Yet  he  died  that  self-same  night; 
They  wept  and  mummied  his  flesh, 
Uncovered  a  room  in  the  un-live  tomb, 
And  laid  him  away  all  duly. 


14  Songs  of  Enlargement. 

But  his  wraith,  it  fled  not  away 
To  the  realm  of  Osiris,  the  blest, 
But  pined  as  it  lay  confined  in  its  clay, 
His  withering,  prisonly  frame. 


Ages  six,  and  ages, 
Until,  undone  by  the  years, 
Crumbled,  decayed  into  dust  that  frame, 
And  the  soul  blew  forth  and  away. 


Away  on  the  scourge  of  the  gale 
It  hurried  and  swayed  and  swirled, 
Bewailing  its  doom,  through  the  gate  of  the  tomb, 
To  the  graveless  pain  of  the  future. 

Aye,  sing  of  this  lonely  wind, 
Whose  soul,  a  stricken  soul, 
Driven  to  wanderings,  pitiless,  far, 
No  home  and  no  goal  drave  on ! 

Blowing  o'er  pyramid  stones 
And  the  lips  of  the  ageless  Sphinx, 
Away,  uneased,  o'er  plains  and  seas, 

This  prayer  through  the  air  did  breathe: 

"Hear,  O  Isis,  hear! 
For  7  am  Pharao's  life ! 
I  craved  to  live,  and  ye  gave  me  this, 
And  mocked,  ye  gods,  at  my  wish!" 


Pharao's   Wind. 

Blowing  the  sea-brine  over, 
Fleeing  the  land  at  eve, 
And  back  by  day  o'er  the  sandy  waste — 
So  whiled  the  life  of  the  waif. 


"Hear,   Ra-Ammon,  hear! 
And  grant  what  I  fain  would  ask! 
I  prayed  to  live,  and  ye  gave  me  this — 
Yet  I  deem  it  is  meet  for  my  sin !" 


And  still  did  the  air  so  whisper, 
Till  half  of  the  age  was  past, 
And  the  waif  of  a  soul  grew  faint  of  its  hope, 
And  the  height  of  its  pride  was  low. 


Prayed,  "Hear,  Osiris,  hear ! 
Though  I  be  Pharao's  life, 
Who  craved  for  impious  gain  in  sin, 
Making  naught  of  thy  call,  O  King! 


"Henceforth  do  I  pray  thee  sore 
To  take  me  home  to  the  Grave, 
To  the  shore  of  the  Dead,  whose  souls  have  rest ! 
Oh,  answer,  grant  my  request !" 


./<5  Songs  of  Enlargement. 


INTERMEZZO — THE  ORACLE. 

Pharao,  hark  to  the  voice.    Give  heed,  if  so  thoti  repentest. 

Listen !    Osiris  is  dead — worship  the  shadow  no  more. 
Whom  men's  prayers  call  Gods  are  names  for  the  Great  UN- 
NAM-ED— 

Types,  unavailing  for  thee — thou  art  a  waif  of  the  air  ! 
Search,  find  one  who  in  prayer  hath  named  WHO  only  can 

answer ; 

Find  him,  breatto?on  his  face.     Go,  for  it  bringeth  thee 
rest ! 


PART  II.       TO  REST. 

The  Moslem  fought  the  idolater, 
Warring  a   sacred   war ; 
But  the  blade  of  the  foe  prevailed,  and  low 
In  the  dust  he  lay.  covered  with  gore. 


And  he  cried,  "O  Allah,  I  die! 
Yet  spare  me  this  day,  I  ask ! 
Some  graven  image  I'll  break  if  I  live !" 
Twas  a  shadowy  hand,  once  pierced, 


Seemed  laid  on  the  dying  face, 
And  the  life  was  spared  for  a  time ; 
But  Allah  nor  Prophet — they  answered  not, 
So  Pharao's  wraith  fared  on. 


'Pharao's  wind  as  it  watched  her.' 


Pliarao's   Wind. 

A  sinner,  oppressed  with  guilt, 
Repented  in  tears  as  he  knelt : 
''Have  pity,  O  God,  on  a  sick  soul  lost ! 
O  Jesus,  on  thee  I  call !" 


And  pardon  was  sealed  in  his  heart ; 
Oh,  peace,  like  a  river,  most  sweet ! 
"To  the  Giver,"  quoth  Pharao,  "this  man  prayeth," 
And  breathed  on  his  features — in  vain. 


Madonna,  the  mother  of  sorrows ! 
Another,  bereft  and  dumb, 

Once  knelt  at  her  image,  too  whelmed  for  tears ; 
Moved  idly  her  silent  lips. 


Then  weeping  came  for  relief, 
Since  twain  had  share  in  the  ache ; 
And  the  air,  as  it  watched  her,  fanned  her  locks, 
But  his  fate  yet  drave  him  on. 

And  still,  though  many  the  years, 
And  many  that  prayed  and  were  blest, 
The  name  of  the  FATHER  the  wraith  found  not, 
And  the  search  went  earnestlv  on. 


Mountains,  and  silence,  and  clouds, 
And  a  ride  through  the  forest  night, 
And  water  that  poured  through  the  gorge  below, 
And  trust  and  love  in  a  soul ; 


2O  Songs  of  Enlargement. 

And  the  heart,  with  the  night  surcharged, 
Drew  nigh  to  the  central  Life ; 
"With  bended  form  I  bless  thee,  O  God !" 
To  the  waiting  wraith  'twas  nought. 


A  student,  a  doubting  recluse, 
Who  had  found  no  gleam  through  the  cloud, 
Sat  weary  with  failure ;  and  streaks  of  gray 
Had  come  'bove  the  hungry  face. 


And  he  thought  of  the  grave  and  faltered, 
And  spake,  "Be  propitious,  O  Fate!'' 
And  his  spirit  grew  calm,  but  still  roved  on 
The  waif  that  waited  and  watched. 


But  there  lay  one  dead  in  his  chamber. 
And  when  shall  he  wake  again? 
And  say,  shall  he  rise  as  the  same,  same  life, 
And  his  memory  heavy  with  time? 


Or  to  woo,  like  a  child,  all  anew 
The  ties  that  before  he  had  prized? 
To  the  hopeful  and  long  unknown  he  is  gone ; 
And  the  dead  hath  met  his  GOD. 


On  the  white  lips  lingered  a  smile, 
For  the  spirit  had  passed  from  ill ; 
And  the  air  seemed  held  of  a  tranquil  spell, 
And  an  ancient  wraith  found  rest. 


The  Ladder  of  Conversion.  21 


THE  LADDER  OF  CONVERSION. 


INTRODUCTION. 

'Tis  nature's  law  myself  to  save, 

Yet  sacrifice  is  law  divine. 

But  may  the  twain  in  one  combine  ? 
God  ne'er  conflicting  mandates  gave. 
Then  who  am  I  in  widest  life — 

That  thing  whose  wrong  I  keenly  feel, 

Whose  every  good  I  count  my  weal, 
Whose  goal  is  mine,  and  mine  its  strife? 

Give  answer,  sinners  blind,  supine. 

Give  answer,  saints,  whose  joy  is  real. 


First  Soul.     The  Pleasure-seeker. 

I  am  the  current  hour — why  more? 

I'll  taste  my  fill  of  frothy  joy ; 

No  conscience  giveth  me  annoy. 
What  care  I  now  for  days  of  yore? 

What  care  I  if  the  future  cloy? 
'Twill  not  be  7  when  the  joy  is  o'er. 


22  Songs  of  Enlargement. 


Second  Soul.     The  Fortune-seeker. 


I  am  the  years  to  come.  My  aim 
Is  present  saving,  future  wealth. 
I'm  temperate  for  future  health. 

I  do  the  right  to  win  good  name. 
No  present  folly  shall  by  stealth 

Defraud  me  of  success  and  fame. 


Third  Soul.     The  Heaven-seeker. 


I  am  a  soul  that  never  dies. 

I'll  patient  tread  this  vale  of  tears, 
Which  hell  has  sown  with  gloomy  fears; 

I'll  choke  the  sins  that  in  me  rise, 
And  serve  the  Master  all  my  years, 

To  win  a  mansion  in  the  skies. 


Fourth  Soul.     The  Transmigrationist. 


I  am  a  life  that's  yet  unborn, 

Beyond  the  stream  Forgetfulness. 
I'll  penance  do  that  life  to  bless. 

My  self  and  heir  is  he.     I'd  scorn 
To  will  him  aught  but  holiness, 

Though  I  must  vanish  ere  that  morn. 


The  Ladder  of  Conversion.  23 


Fifth  Soul.     The  Parent. 

As  leaves  spring  forth  upon  a  tree, 
Joint  fruitage  of  the  sap  and  sun, 
Yet  with  the  tree  itself  are  one, 

So  I'm  the  children  born  of  me. 

My  course  of  life  in  them  shall  run, 

And  hopes  denied,  fulfillment  see. 


Sixth  Soul.     The  Teacher. 


I  am  the  pupils.    In  their  mind 

My  thoughts  spring  up  and  flourish  wide, 
My  feelings — hopes — are  multiplied. 

My  cord  of  life  with  theirs  is  twined. 
In  serving  them  with  self  denied, 

My  soul  shall  true  fruition  find. 


Seventh  Soul.    The  Philanthropist. 

I  am  the  lives  of  all  I  meet. 

All  loss  for  them  I  count  but  gain, 
For  I  can  feel  their  joy  and  pain, 

If  seen  or  told  of;  murdered  feet, 

Starved  soul  of  China's  girls,  my  bane ; 

The  drunkard  saved,  my  pleasure  sweet. 


Songs  of  Enlargement. 


Eighth  Soul.    The  Christian. 

I  am  the  Christ  who  died  for  me. 

All  things  as  his  are  fused  in  one. 

To  work  with  him  I've  now  begun. 
E'en  should  my  toil  no  fruitage  see, 

And  men  despise  me,  hate,  and  shun, 
My  joy  is  sure — he  dwells  in  me! 


TJie  Bigot  and  the   TrutJi. 


THE  BIGOT  AND  THE  TRUTH. 
I. 

The  builders  built  the  east  wall  of  the  house. 

It  was  very  proud,  and  said,  "The  house  shall  rest  on  me." 

The  builders  built  the  west  wall  of  the  house. 
It  also  was  very  proud,  and  said,  "The  house  shall  rest  on 
me." 

The  east  wall  said  to  the  west  wall :  "I  was  made  first.  The 
builders  knew  their  business,  and  here  is  where  the 
wall  ought  to  be ; 

"You  are  a  dangerous  experiment,  an  interloper,  a  heretic,  a 
thing  out  of  place. 

"The  house  shall  not  rest  on  you." 

The  west  wall  said  to  the  east  wall :  "The  builders  were  only 
practicing  on  you.  I  am  their  finished  work. 

"You  are  a  thing  out  of  date,  a  conventional  survival ;  may 
the  frost  pry  you  apart. 

"The  house  shall  not  rest  on  you." 

And  so  the  house  was  built. 


26  Songs  of  Enlargement. 


II. 

The  old  house  saw  new  houses  building  all  around  it. 

It  said  to  them:  "I  am  the  house  in  which  the  people  ought 
to  live.  They  are  running  away  from  home  when 
they  go  to  you ; 

"Besides,  I  do  not  like  your  crooked  roofs,  dormer  windows, 
and  new-fangled  porches." 

The  many  replied  to  the  one :  "Your  plain  gables  are  out  of 

fashion,  and  your  yard  is  not  cut  down  to  city  grade. 

You  are  a  blot  on  an  otherwise  handsome  street. 
"We  do  not  see  how  people  can  take  so  much  pleasure  in 

visiting  you  and  remembering  that  the  first  governor 

of  the  state  was  born  in  you. 
"Besides,  he  has  been  dead  a  good  many  years." 

Yet  the  city  still  stands,  and  no  one  shuts  his  eyes  while 
passing  either  old  house  or  new. 


The  Biot  and  the   Truth. 


III. 


The  city  turned  its  eyes  westward  and  saw  the  pioneers  on  a 
thousand  scattered  ranches. 

It  said  to  those  whom  it  pitied  :  "Your  life  is  rough,  your  vis 
ion  is  narrow,  your  refinement  is  nil,  your  literary  first 
attempts  are  grotesque. 

"Your  only  salvation  is  in  the  time  when  cities  like  myself 
shall  have  multiplied  among  you." 

The  pioneers  said  to  the  city :  "Your  men  lack  muscle,  your 
wealth  is  tainted  by  extortion,  your  delight  in  refine 
ment  is  half  hypocrisy. 

"Our  vices  are  natural,  and  will  be  good  things  when  they 
are  harnessed  and  controlled. 

"Your  vices  are  artificial,  and  lead  toward  decay  and  child 
lessness. 

"Your  only  salvation  is  in  the  fresh  country  blood  that  pours 
into  you." 

And  such  is  our  America,  once  small,  now  great  and  growing 
greater. 


28  Songs  of  Enlargement. 


TV. 

Said  our  Christian  land  to  pagan  Asia : 

"Because  our  women  could  not  adapt  themselves  happily  to 
zenana  life,  we  know  that  yours  do  not. 

"Because  loss  of  identity,  absorption  into  the  deity,  is  not  our 
idea  of  the  joys  of  heaven,  your  search  for  Nirvana  is 
a  religion  of  despair. 

"Because  your  weaver  of  mats  at  four  cents  a  day  is  clad  in 
breech-clout  and  eats  rice,  he  is  the  victim  of  grinding 
poverty.  Your  caste  system  is  to  blame." 

Said  the  East  to  America : 

"We  have  great  woes  and  great  sins.  Perhaps  you  do  not 
claim  yourself  to  be  perfect  or  perfectly  happy. 

"Our  poor  are  more  comfortable  in  breech-clout  than  they 
would  be  in  Parisian  full  dress. 

"Our  philosophy,  perhaps  blind  before  the  idea  of  the  Christ- 
love  came  to  open  its  eyes,  is  filtering  into  your  land, 
and  is  teaching  your  Christianity  how  better  to  un 
derstand,  define,  and  realize  itself." 

And  so  the  world  walks  forward,  because  standing  on  all  of 
its  leers. 


The  Bigot  and  the   Truth.  29 


V. 

Our  earth  said  that  it  was  in  the  center  of  the  physical  uni 
verse. 

Later  it  learned  that  the  sun  was  also  in  the  center — and 
Jupiter,  and  Neptune,  and  every  one  of  the  stars. 

The  earth  said  that  it  was  in  the  center  of  the  moral  universe, 
That  the  battle  of  good  and  evil  for  all  place  and  all  time  was 

heing  fought  here ; 
That  the  stars  of  the  firmament  were  empty  worlds,  made  for 

us  to  look  at ; 
That  because  a  man  could  not  endure  the  climate  of  Mercury, 

there  is  therefore  no  life  of  any  kind  there ; 
That  because  we  do  not  see  the  little  men  made  of  ether 

whose  nations  live  on  the  round  atoms  of  our  body, 

such  nations  cannot  exist ; 
That  because  the  stars  of  heaven  do  not  realize  that  they  are 

atoms  in  the  body  of  a  vast  mortal  being  with  blood 

and  brain  and  brawn,  with  birth  and  growth  and 

social  relations,  no  such  society  of  giants  of  the  third 

order  can  exist. 

Our  earth,  I  have  said,  affirmed  all  these  things,  but  it  did 

not  prove  them,  and  now  it  no  longer  believes  them. 
There  is  room  for  the  Universe  to  be  very  large. 


Songs  of  Enlargement. 


VI. 

Our  Universe  said  that  it  was  infinite ; 
That  was  a  safe  statement. 

It  said  that,  because  it  was  thus  infinite,  there  was  not  room 

for  anything  else  to  exist ; 
That  was  a  rash  statement. 

It  thought  that  between  the  two  walls  of  time  and  the  six 
wralls  of  space  were  crowded  all  things  which  possess 
being. 

It  forgot  that  the  Boundless  ought  not  to  have  any  bounds, 
walls,  or  dimensions  that  can  be  counted. 

It  did  not  know  that  countless  other  Universes  of  matter 
might  be  sweeping  past  and  through  us  at  such  a 
speed  that  we  do  not  see  them  nor  discriminate  them 
by  feeling; 

It  did  not  know  that  the  ever-present,  speed-defying  thrust 
of  gravitation,  the  wrecking-reef  of  Science,  might 
be  the  echo-of-the-shadow-of-the-breath  of  such  Uni 
verses,  passing  us  in  all  directions  always. 


The  Bigot  and  the   Truth.  ?/ 

It  did  not  know  that  between  the  stroke  of  noon  and  the 
stroke  of  one  by  our  city  clocks  on  earth  the  clock  of 
years  in  some  other  Universe  might  strike  an  infinite 
number  of  times,  separated  by  intervals  infinitesimal 
to  our  slow  consciousness,  but  as  real  and  as  long  to 
some  other  consciousness  as  our  years  are  to  us ; 

It  did  not  know  that  human  free  will,  the  wrecking-reef  of 
Philosophy,  might  be  the  thought-of-the-dream-of- 
the-greeting  of  such  other  Universes,  overtaking  and 
passing  us  in  the  flight  of  time. 

I,  a  man,  am  not  afraid  to  make  two  statements : 
Whatever  I  can  create  in  thought,  God  can  create  in  fact; 
God  is  not  likely  to  have  exerted  less  than  the  whole  of  His 
creative  power. 


Manifold  Ideals* 


A  SONG  OF  THE  FUTURE. 


Hark,  my  soul!  I  hear  the  voices,  telling  of  the  world  to  be, 
Whispering  of  things  supernal,  past  the  power  of  eye  to  see, 

Telling  how  the  earth  shall  ripen,  bearing  fruit  where  soiveth 

now, 
Telling  how  ideals  battle,  zvreathed  at  last  a  victor's  brow. 


Manifold  Ideals* 


A  SONG  OF  THE  FUTURE. 


I  can  see  the  future  coming.    Manifold  it  draweth  near, 
Not  as  one,  but  many  visions,  some  of  hope  and  some  of 
fear. 

Earth  may  choose  which  vision  tarries,  growing  real  this 

world  within — 
Others  passing,  flitting,  fleeting  to  the  realm  of  might  have 

been. 

For  mankind  is  like  a  garden.     Weeds  and  flowers  of  every 

mold 
Grow  together,  strive  together,  seeking  largest  room  to  hold  ; 

And  the  will  of  man  divinely  stands  as  gardener  o'er  them 

all, 
Choosing  which  to  prune  and  cherish,  choosing  what  shall 

die  and  fall. 

35 


j6  Manifold  Ideals. 

Listen,  Earth,  and  choose  in  wisdom.     Future  time  begins 

to-day. 
Ere  the  morning  sun  some  vision,  now  in  reach,  will  pass 

away. 


Look !  I  see  a  world  of  battle,  man  with  man  in  deadlier  fray, 
Armored  fleets  despised  as  paper,  guns  of  old  all  cast  away, 

Mightier  weapons  flying,  diving,  shells  that  crush  the  moun 
tain  side, 

Poison  vapors  past  resisting,  lightnings  flashing  far  and 
wide. 

Till  the  armies  grow  the  masters,  sitting  high  o'er  king  and 

state, 
Serve  their  own  will,  not  the  people's,  giving  vent  to  pride 

and  hate, 

Crush  the  millions  into  bondage,  join  as  one  throughout 

the  earth 
In  a  compact  of  oppression,  counting  nations  nothing  worth. 


Then  among  these  mighty  engines  strife  again  shall  find  a 

place, 
For  one  army,  more  ambitious,  seeks  to  rule  the  total  race, 


'Hurling  tidal  waves  and  earthquakes  from  its  vantage  in  the  skies. 


A   Song  of  the  Future.  jp 

iWins,  and  makes  the  other  armies  vassals  low  to  do  its  will, 
Air  police  to  grind  the  nations  in  taxation's  bitterest  mill. 


Still  once  more  the  strife  is  quickened,  for  one  engine  might 
ier  far, 
Rises  to  outclass  all  others  in  the  tournament  of  war. 


Till  mankind  is  upward  builded  in  a  pyramid  of  woe, 
Each  oppressed  by  those  above  him,  each  a  weight  on  them 
below. 


All  in  vain  shall  rebels  muster,  for  the  Engine  o'er  them 

flies, 
Hurling  tidal  waves  and  earthquakes  from  its  vantage  in 

the  skies. 


But  the  doom  is  not  forever,  for  the  hundred  in  the  cage, 
Discontented,  strive  together — orgy  wild  of  jealous  rage. 


"I  shall  be  the  king!"  said  Conrad,  "though  I  slay  my  fel 
lows  all!" 

"I  shall  be  the  queen !"  said  Norma,  "though  the  human  race 
may  fall!" 


In  the  Engine  grim  and  lonely  sits  the  cruel  woman  now, 
With  the  bloody  dead  around  her.     She  has  brought  to 
pass  her  vow, 


{O  Manifold  Ideals. 

And  the  world  rebels  beneath  her,  and  she  fights  it  to  the 
death. 

Drawn  the  battle,  fierce  the  carnage,  till  she  moans  her 
latest  breath. 


Now  the  world  is  free,  but  drunken  with  a  license  new  and 
strange, 

Slaves,  that  know  not  how  to  govern,  or  to  meet  the  won 
drous  change. 

So  an  age  of  lawless  evil  lays  all  culture  in  the  dust, 

Ere  the  remnant  learn  through  sorrow  how  to  be  both  free 
and  just. 


Pass !  Arise,  O  second  vision,  of  a  world  fraternal,  kind. 
Competition  rules  no  longer,  but  invention,  skill  and  mind. 

Social  order,  vast  and  complex,  gives  each  life  a  goodly 

place, 
Sacrificing  self-distinctness,  so  machineried  the  race. 

"Come,  O  stranger,"  said  the  pilot,  "I  will  show  this  world 

to  thee. 
Thou  shalt  marvel,  but  believe  it,  all  is  real  thine  eye  doth 

see. 


A   Song  of  the  Future.  41 

"Thousand-story  buildings  yonder!     City  vast  from  shore 

to  shore 
Covers  earth,  save  where  for  beauty  parks  lie  green  or 

mountains  soar. 

"Men  a  thousand  million  million  dwell  on  earth  in  concord 

rare. 
None  is  stranger  to  his  fellow — sight  can  travel  everywhere. 

"In  my  home  I  sit  at  leisure,  need  not  wander  through  the 

world. 
I  can  see  all  sights  at  pleasure  on  the  photoplane  unfurled: 

"Landscape  lying  fair  before  me,  mountains  planted  far  or 

nigh, 
Himalayas,  Alps,  and  Andes,  grand  against  the  summer  sky. 

"I  can  climb  along  their  ledges,  look  beneath,  the  precipice 

o'er, 
I  can  see  Niagara  falling,  feel  the  thunder  of  its  roar. 

"I  can  hear  all  sweetest  music,  though  'tis  sung  in  foreign 

land, 
Meet  my  distant  friends  as  truly  as  I  held  them  by  the  hand. 

"Lovers  seek  their  mates  by  method,  viewing  maidens  far 
and  wide. 

Authors  bow  before  committees,  who  alone  their  worth  de 
cide. 


$2  Manifold  Ideals. 

"Man  is  feeble  grown  in  body,  need  not  toil  or  struggle  more, 
For  Machinery  is  master,  and  the  day  of  sweat  is  o'er. 

"Agriculture  lives  no  longer,  fields  now  city  everywhere. 
Whence  the  bread  for  countless  billions?     Chemists  make 
from  earth  and  air. 

"In  the  tropics  all  is  comfort,  breezes  cool  that  man  controls, 
While  a  man-born  heat  dispelleth  snow  and  iceberg  from 
the  poles. 

"Whence  the  power  for  all  this  wonder?     Not  in  coal  or 

waterfall, 
But  the  stores  of  gravitation,  tapped  at  last,  abound  for  all. 

"Not  transparent  absolutely  is  the  earth  to  ether's  ray. 
One  ten-thousandth  of  a  thousandth,  checked,  appears  as 
gravity. 


"Man  makes  hyperchem.     Tis  denser  than    a    thousand 

blocks  of  steel. 
Disk  on  edge  weighs  down  more  lightly;  flat,  the  pillais 

'neath  it  reel. 


"For  the  uppper  parts,  when  heavy,  shield,  make  lighter 

those  below. 
One  disk  rising,  one  descending,  make  the  engine  heave 

and  throe. 


A   Song  of  the  Future.  4.5 

"  'Tide-power,'  'moon-power,'  not  by  'horse-power,'  do  men 

measure  force  to-day." 
So  the  pilot  ends  his  story,  and  the  vision  fades  away. 


Look !  a  picture  horrid  follows  of  an  earth  despoiled  and 

bare, 

Frozen  oceans  dead  and  lonely ;  gone  is  life  and  warmth 
and  air! 

From  Atlantic  to  Pacific  not  a  tree  or  flower  seen, 
Not  a  ruin  of  man's  building — rocks,  with  chasms  foul  be 
tween  ! 

Was   it   war  that  slew  the  people,   stripping  earth   at  one 
fell    stroke, 

When    the    continental    thunders    of    some    huge    artillery 
spoke  ? 

Was  it  time's  refrigeration,  when  a  million  years  are  past, 
Cooling,  killing,  cracking,  wrecking,  making  earth  a  moon 
at  last? 

Was  it  accidental  error  in  some  too  ambitious  plan, 
Using  powers  past  controlling,  shuddering  loose,  a  doom 
for  man? 


46  Manifold  Ideals. 

Or  perchance  the  race  grew  zealous  to  bring  earth  and 

moon  more  nigh, 
Lend  her  of  our  air  and  moisture,  pleasure  house  for  man 

on  high. 

So  their  gravitation  engines,  multiplied,  began  to  lift, 
With  their  vasty  palpitations  slowly  drew  the  earth  adrift. 

Did  it  thus  forsake  its  orbit,  climb  to  perils  unforeseen, 
Till  some  comet  straying  struck  it,  swept  it  dead  and  cold 
and  clean? 

Whence,  oh!  whence  the  mighty  ruin?     Though  we  guess 

our  guesses  fail. 
We  shall  never  know  the  story.     Planets  dead  can  tell  no 

tale. 


Rise  another,  choicer  vision,  of  a  world  'neath  freedom's 
sway. 

"Be  thyself!"     "Molest  not  others!"     These  two  proverbs 
all  obey. 

One  crime  only  now  is  punished,  meddling  with  another's 
ways. 

Live  the  frogs,  are  slain  mosquitoes.     Missionaries  win  no 
praise. 


A   Song-  of  the  Future.  4.7 

Progress  comes  with  halting  footstep,  for  each  life  expands 

alone. 
Tribes  the  same  in  former  ages  now  are  widely  separate 

grown. 


No  two  towns  alike  in  custom,  no  two  lands  alike  in  speech. 
Highest  joy  of  man  is  travel — see  what  different  lives  may 
teach. 


Various  houses.     Comely  dugouts,  roomy,  safe  from  sun 

and  storm. 
Palaces  a  thousand  chambers   elsewhere  rise  in   pyramid 

form. 


Soldier  builds  himself  a  castle,  tower  and  battlement  and 

moat. 
Sailor's  home  upon  the  seashore  bears  a  likeness  to  his  boat. 


Woodman's  cot  in  form  of  tree  trunk,  'neath  a  shade  by 

foliage  lent ; 
Savages  still  bide  in  wigwams,  Bedouin  sheik  still  loves 

his  tent. 


Various  dress.     Some  clad  Parisian,  others  wearing  mats  of 

grass, 
Some  a  coat  of  gaudy  colors,  some  a  mail  of  polished  brass. 


$8  Manifold  Ideals. 

Some,  o'er-modest,  hide  their  figures  in  a  cage  that  goes  on 

wheels, 
Arms  and  limbs  alike  concealing.     Some  wear  hats  that 

reach  their  heels. 


''Woodman's  cot." 


Cultured  Zealanders  are  naked,  rich  tattooing,  pictures  rare. 
Elsewhere  Grecian  garb  is  fashion — flowing,  arm  and  shoul 
der  bare. 


Various  manners.     Some  live  silent,  meet  for  converse  once 

a  year. 
Some  six  days  in  seven  gossip,  labor  one,  though  want  be 

near. 


A   Song  of  the  Future.  4.9 

Some  are  trothed  while  in  the  cradle,  others  on  their  dying 

day. 
Some  live  misers,  tattered,  hungry.     Some  give  all  their 

wealth  away. 


Various  races.     Some  are  giants,  twice  the  common  height 

of  man. 
Others  dwarf;  some  blubbery,  swinish;  slender  some,  their 

waist  a  span. 


Various  talents,   work  divided.     Gifts  augment   from   sire 

to  son. 
Acrobats  that  leap  o'er  houses.     Others  like  the  whirlwind 

run. 


Scientists,  nigh  deaf  to  music ;  calculators,  color-blind ; 
Painters,  nearly  void  of  language ;  specialists  of  every  kind. 

Yet  amid  so  great  confusion  perfect  men  are  also  found, 
Kind,  big-hearted,   brainy,  brawny,   every  fiber  clean   ?nd 
sound. 


Such  the  world  if  each  man  follows  just  the  bent  that  in 
him   lies. 

Some  live  happy  in  the  gutter,  curse  the  hand  that  bids 
them  rise. 


jo  Manifold  Ideals. 

Those  who  climb  must  climb  unaided,  gathering  strength 

along  the  way, 
Interesting  folk,  slow  progress,  philosophic  anarchy. 


Hark!  a  vision-voice  comes  ringing  from  a  self-perfecting 

earth. 
"Let  the  best  alone  have  being!     Fools — what  right  have 

they  to  birth? 


"Better  die  than  live  a  weakling!     Happier  thou  as  empty 

space, 
Where  some  higher  soul  may  flourish,  than  to  live,  thine  own 

disgrace. 


"Twain  the  goal  of  man's  achievement,  power  of  Mind  and 

perfect   Health. 
Let  invention  serve  but  little.    Be  thine  own  most  cherished 

wealth. 


"For  the  people — mark  the  wonder! — now  have  conquered 
pain  and  death. 

Half  a  million  years  the  eldest,  sages  all,  have  drawn  their 
breath. 


A   Song-  of  the  Future.  51 

"How?    Too  marvelous?     But  listen.     Death  indeed  still 

comes  to  all, 
But  a  new-born  babe  that  moment  doth  the  soul  to  earth 

recall. 


"Ere  the  newly  wed  are  given  joy  of  parenthood  divine, 
They  must  woo  some  aged  dear  one,  with  his  life  their 
own  entwine. 


"Mystic  arts  cement  the  union.     Dying  he  becomes  their 

child, 
For  the  little  one  is  birth-marked  with  his  spirit  wise  and 

mild. 


"Sleeps  the  infant  all  unconscious,  murmuring  at  his  moth 
er's  breast, 

Matrons  all  are  proud  Madonnas,  cherishing  a  heavenly 
guest. 

"Slowly  dawns  his  self-remembrance,  yet  he  loves  his  pa 
rents  new, 

Mingling  artlessness  of  childhood  with  a  world-embracing 
view. 


"So  the  earth  is  bound  together  by  a  million  ties  of  love, 
And  each  life  is  rich  exceeding,  like  the  joy  of  heaven 
above. 


5.2  Manifold  Ideals. 

"Thousand  mothers,  brothers,  lovers,  relics  dear  of  former 

lives, 
Still  live  round  thee — thousand  fathers,  children,  husbands, 

sisters,  wives. 

"In  the  heart's  most  separate  chambers  love  for  each  as 

treasure  lies, 
Ne'er  commingling  with  the  present  to  disturb  its  holiest 

ties. 


"Grows  the  age,  so  groweth  wisdom.     More  than  all  the 

race  before 
Knew  or  dreamed,  each  mortal  spirit  holds,  and  reaches  on 

for  more." 


Such  the  world  whose  hope  is  centered  on  a  bettered  earth 

below, 
An  aristocratic  heaven,  where  the  Best  may  ever  grow. 


But  behold !  once  more  the  future  breaketh  ope  with  vis 
ions  new 
Of  a  world  that  seeks  the  many,  not  perfection  for  the  few. 

Where  the  soul's  most  high  ambition  is  a  sacrifice  of  soul, 
Not  "survival  of  the  fittest,"  but  "survival  of  the  whole." 


A   Song  of  the  Future.  53 

Humblest  animals  are  cherished  for  the  promise  they  con 
tain 

Of  a  life  that  might  be  higher.  Loss  for  them  is  counted 
gain. 


Recarnation  now   is   practiced  not  through  hatred   of  the 

grave, 
But  to  join  the  lower  races,  there  to  minister  and  save. 


Emptying  themselves  like  Jesus,  missionaries  gladly  bow 
To  be  born  as  fowls  and  fishes,  dog  and  weasel,  horse  and 
cow. 


And  they  teach  the  darkened  vision,  sharing  in  the  brutish 

night, 
Higher  blood  and  brain  infusing,  leading  slowly  toward  the 

light. 


See !  a  flock  of  crows  are  sitting  in  a  parliament  of  birds, 
Little  brains  that  now  have  mastered  half  a  hundred  human 
words. 


They  can  count  from  one  to  twenty;  they  have  heard  the 

name  of  God, 
Thinking  Him  a  crow  gigantic — sky  of  night  His  pinions 

broad. 


5^  Manifold  Ideals. 

Horses  need  no  more  the  bridle.     They  can  guide  the  plow 

alone, 
Working  out  for  board  and  shelter,  choocing  where  to  make 

their  home. 


Even  fish  obey  a  leader  in  protection  from  the  shark, 
Swim  by  day  in  close  battalion,  post  a  sentinel  in  the  dark. 


And  ere  long  the  worm  and  insect  shall  have  felt  the  touch 

of   mind, 
Percolating  down  the  stages,  helping  each  a  humbler  kind. 


Slow  the  upper  growth  of  progress,  but  the  roots  are  deep 

and  wide, 
Building  heart-wood  undecaying,  creature  motive  deified. 


Pass !   The  visions  turn  to  shadow.     'Tis  the  present  world 

I  see, 
With  its  militant  ideals,  seeds  of  destinies  to  be. 


A   Song  of  the  Future.  55 

Which,  oh !  which  shall  be  triumphant  when  the  battle  years 

are  o'er? 
ALL,  I  ween  ;  through  other  planets  man  shall  scatter  more 

and  more. 


Yet  around  OUR  darling  sphere  one  future  shall  have  cast 

its  sway. 
Ponder,  Earth,  and  choose  in  wisdom !     Future  time  begins 

to-day ! 


The  Twilight  of  the  Race* 


FIVE  TALES 

of  the 
PREHISTORIC  STONE  AGE. 


The  following  talcs  are  intended  as  historical  fiction. 

Thousands  of  years  ago,  when  all  men  used  ragged  stone 
implements  and  hunted  the  mammoth,  the  cave-bear,  and — 
their  brides,  our  ancestors,  being  a  part  of  all  men,  also  used 
ragged  stone  implements  and  hunted  the  cave-bear  and  the 
mammoth. 

In  knowledge  of  ivarfarc  and  the  industries  tlicsc  people 
were  doubtless  inferior  to  the  lozvest  savages  of  to-day.  In 
native  wholesomencss  and  capacity  for  progress  they  were 
doubtless  far  their  superiors. 

It  is  hoped  that  these  pages  may  bring  before  the  imag 
ination,  with  some  approach  to  truthfulness,  this  interesting 
early  chapter  in  our  family  history. 


The  Twilight  of  the  Race* 


FIVE  TALES  OF  THE  PREHISTORIC  STONE  AGE. 


FIRST  TALE. 
THE  EPIC  OF  WYE-HHA. 


The  winter  was  long  in  Hangng-kwee, 

The  winter  when  the  great  snow  fell. 
Then  were  they  of  the  kith  hungry 

For  very  much  want  of  eating. 
So  did  Wonketop  call  council, 

He,  the  great  chief  of  that  kith ; 
And  they  all  gathered  in  his  winqwaum, 

Even  five  fighting  men  of  war, 
But  he,  Wonketop,  was  the  sixth  man, 

The  strongest  among  the  six. 
The  women  heard  them,  also,  not  seen, 

Sitting  behind  the  bear-skin  curtain ; 

59 


60  The   Tn>i  light  of  the  Race. 

They  were  Wonketop,  the  chief's,  household, 
The  other  women  being  not  there. 


And  he,  great  chief,  spake  with  his  mouth, 

Saying  thus  unto  them,  the  men : 
"My  men  who  are  of  my  tribe-kith, 

War-men  of  the  tribe  of  Hangng-kvvee, 
The  winter  is  still  long  against  us, 

Spring  not  coming  down  from  the  sky, 
And  we,  the  folks,  do  go  hungry 

Throughout  all  of  our  six  winqwaums. 
The  wild  game  like  not  to  stay  here 

On  the  north  side  of  the  mountain ; 
They  like  the  south  side  toward  the  sun, 

Where  dwell  the  people  of  Wangng-kwee, 
And  they  are  more  many  than  our  kith, 

So  that  we  cannot  dislodge  them, 
And  they  kill  game  more  than  we  do, 

Filling  with  happiness  their  bellies ; 
And  the  woods  have  not  enough  game 

To  feed  these  two  so  great  peoples. 
Now  consider  what  we  shall  do, 

So  as  to  be  the  best  for  us, 
For  we  are  hungry  in  our  mouths 

For  lack  of  very  much  eating." 

Then  spake  Tenkemiq,  sitting  there, 
Folding  his  hands  about  his  knees: 

"O  Wonketop,  chief  among  us, 
Being  the  strongest  among  six, 

If  thou  wilt  go  yonder  and  fight, 
We  also  will  come  in  thy  trail, 


/.     Epic  of  Wye-hha.  61 

But  if  thou  wilt  stay  sitting  here, 

We  cannot  all  fight  without  thee. 
Therefore  hear  what  seemeth  the  best 

To  me  thinking  of  our  sore  need. 
Yesterday  we  ate  that  rabbit, 

A  small  one,  not  enough  for  us ; 
Khauketau  slew  it  near  the  thicket, 

Throwing  straight  with  his  stone  hatchet. 
To-day  we  sit  here  all  empty, 

Being  a  thing  yet  worse  for  us. 
But  they  slew  yester-night  a  deer, 

They,  the  strong  people  of  Wangng-kwee, 
And  it  hath  become  their  food, 

Enough  for  their  three  and  ten  winqwaums. 
Now  they  are  gone  again  to-night, 

I  spying  them  from  the  hill-top. 
They  are  out  hunting  the  deer's  roe, 

Scattered  in  four  bands,  not  strong  to  fight. 
So  now  let  us  go  after  them, 

For  to  kill  some  of  them  apart. 
They  shall  learn  if  our  stone  be  sharp,  too, 

Seeing  their  own  blood  run  down  red. 
So  shall  there  be  less  hunters  left, 

Eating  game  from  off  the  whole  mountain. 
But  first  let  us  fall  upon  the  rest, 

The  women  and  the  old  men. 
They  shall  rejoice  much  in  Wangng-kwee, 

When  their  women  and  young  are  all  dead ! 
Then  we  can  fill  our  hearts  with  deer-meat, 

Till  we  are  better  off  for  to  fight." 

Then  spake  Khauketau,  strong  hunter, 
Not  thinking  the  deed  good: 


62  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

"O  Tenkemiq,  are  all  quite  gone, 

None  staying  back  by  the  winqwaums? 
The  women,  too,  have  sharp  knives, 

And  can  hold  a  spear  in  their  hands, 
And  the  old  men  can  fight  somewhat, 

Not  having  forgotten  how. 
I  like  it  not  to  die  to-morrow, 

Though  my  heart  be  then  full  of  meat." 

Then  Khauketau  said  nothing  more, 

Being  a  not  much  talker. 
But  Tenkemiq  spake  with  his  mouth, 

Loudly  deriding  him  by  name : 
"Oho!     Khauke-teeta  thou  art, 

She-hunter  of  the  tribe. 
Thy  hatchet  is  good  for  hunting, 

Killing  small  game  that  run  away. 
But  mine  has  cut  into  four  men, 

Strong  fighters,  making  them  all  dead. 
More  men  have  I  killed  than  any, 

Save  only  Wonketop,  great  chief, 
But  I  fear  not  many  women, 

Being  a  man   who  can  fight." 

Then  spake  the  great  chief  of  the  tribe, 

Sitting  close  by  the  small  fire: 
"Thou  tellest  a  true  thing  of  me, 

That  I  have  killed  five  by  fighting  them, 
And  thou  speakest  well,  Tenkemiq, 

Not  being  afraid  to  go  forth. 
But  Khauketau  also  will  fight, 

Using  his  knife,  good  to  cut  with. 


/.     Epic  of  Wye-hha.  63 

And  the  others  will  all  fight  well, 
Having  learned  how  to  strike  hard." 

So  it  pleased  them  to  go  by  stealth, 

Before  the  morning  should  come  down. 
But  all  the  women  it  pleased  not, 

Hearing  from  behind  the  bear-skin. 
Then  talked  Mauw-hha,  the  chief's  woman, 

With  the  old  woman,  her  grandmother. 
They  thought  the  deed  not  at  all  good, 

Although  they  were  very  much  hungry. 

But  Wye-hha  said  not  anything, 

Daughter  of  Wonketop,  great  chief. 
She  had  a  bad  heart  toward  her  kith 

For  fighting  the  men  of  Wangng-kwee. 
She  had  often  seen  Teeteeka, 

Strong  son  of  Tengng-teeka,  their  chief. 
So  did  he,  tall  youth,  talk  with  her, 

She  being  young  and  a  good  one. 
And  she  was  minded  to  go  there 

For  to  be  his  woman  in  Wangng-kwee. 
But  he  stayed  now  in  his  winqwaum 

With  wounds  struck  by  the  men  of  Hangng-kwee — 
Siktaq  and  his  brother  hurt  him, 

Two  men  fighting  against  just  one. 
Now  Siktaq  had  no  woman  yet, 

But  Wye-hha  liked  him  not,  small  man, 
And  she  had  a  bad  heart  against  him, 

Because  they  two  had  done  that  thing. 

Then  spake  Mauw-hha,  the  chief's  woman, 
Folding  her  hands  about  her  knees: 


^  The   Twilight  of  tJic  Race. 

"Let  me  go  and  talk  with  our  men, 

Lest  they  die,  fighting  in  Wangng-kwee, 
For  they  have  strong  men  ten  and  three, 

Which  be  a  very  large  many. 
And  they  will  come  here  afterward — 

They  who  escape  Wonketop's  hands — 
And  they  will  cut  our  limbs  clear  off, 

Being  fierce,  and  stronger  than  we. 
It  is  not  good  for  six  men  to  fight 

With  such  a  whole  great  nation." 

Then  answered  Wye-hha,  her  daughter, 

Speaking,  strong  woman,  with  her  mouth: 
"Thou,  mother,  wilt  not  turn  them  back 

By  speaking  words  into  their  ears. 
They  are  wild  wolves  which  are  hungry, 

Not  knowing  what  is  good  or  bad, 
And  they  fear  now  not  anything, 

Because  they  are  hungry  inside. 
Is  there  no  game  for  them  to  hunt, 

That  they  must  hunt  men  in  Wangng-kwee? 
Yet  do  thou  go  and  talk  with  them, 

If  so  it  pleaseth  thee  best !" 

Then  she,  Wonketop's  woman,  went  in 

For  to  tell  them  what  was  the  best  thing, 
And  her  small  child  clung  to  her  legs 

And  the  edge  of  her  buck-skin  clothes. 
But  they  were  dancing  themselves  mad, 

Lest  they  be  afraid  in  the  fight. 
She  could  not  turn  them  back  at  all, 

Because  they  were  very  angry, 


"And  her  small  child  clunu  to  her  le^s." 
65 


/.      Epic  of  Wye-hha.  67 

And  their  hearts  were  on  fire  within  them 
For  to  shed  much  blood  on  the  ground. 

But  Wye-hha's  heart  knew  within  her 

What  it  would  straightway  do. 
For  Teeteeka  lay  wounded  still, 

She  also  knowing  about  it, 
And  her  heart  was  on  fire  inside  her, 

Lest  he  be  slain  there,  fighting  alone. 
So  she  took  her  light  stone  hatchet, 

Which  she  could  use  well  with  her  hands, 
And  she  left  the  winqwaum  by  stealth, 

The  old  woman  not  knowing  why. 
She  thought  she  had  gone  to  hunt  small  game, 

Because  of  her  much  hunger. 

Then  Wye-hha  went  a  long  way  round, 

Lest  her  tracks  be  seen  beneath  in  the  snow, 
And  she  crossed  over  the  mountain 

Into  the  wide  land  of  Wangng-kwee. 
So  she  found  a  trail  in  the  snow, 

Made  by  one  of  the  four  bands, 
And  she  ran  with  all  her  strength, 

Lentil  she  overtook  those  three  men. 
Then  she  told  them  the  whole  matter, 

Bidding  them  turn  back  with  haste, 
And  they  left  off  that  hunting  straightway, 

Because  she  had  brought  to  them  much  fear. 
But  she  went  after  two  bands  more, 

The  fourth  being  already  too  far  off. 
Then  they  went  back  to  their  winqwaums, 

Taking  their  steps  beneath  with  care, 


68  The'  Twilight  of  the  Race. 

And  they  walked  backward  in  their  tracks, 
That  their  return  might  stay  unseen. 

Then  they  lay  in  wait  there  inside, 

With  their  hatchets  and  spears  all  ready, 
Till  Wonketop  and  his  men  came, 

Thinking  to  slay  the  young  by  stealth. 
And  those  six  fell  upon  them  in  silence, 

Lest  all  be  wakened  from  sleep  at  once. 
But  they,  the  nine  men,  sprang  right  up, 

And  fought  them  in  the  face '  fiercely  ; 
And  they  shouted  a  great  war-cry, 

Even  the  yell  of  Tengng-teeka. 
But  Wonketop  fought,  keeping  still, 

Greatly  scared  for  his  own  life. 
It  was  hard  for  six  men  to  fight  with  nine, 

Besides  the  women  and  the  old  men. 

Then  Siktaq  tore  down  one  winqwaum, 

He  and  his  young  brother  with  him. 
In  it  was  Teeteeka  waiting, 

With  Wye-hha  and  two  old  men. 
She  struck  Siktaq  twice,  hand  and  face, 

Making  his  blood  drip  down  very  fast. 
Then  she  seized  him  close  with  her  arms, 

Wrestling,  strong  woman,  with  his  strength. 
But  he  took  her  fast  by  the  throat, 

Trying  to  choke  all  her  breath  out. 
Then  rose  up  Teeteeka  from  his  bed, 

Coming,  though  much  wounded,  to  help  her  fight. 
He  struck  Siktaq  twice  on  the  neck, 

So  that  he  lay  down  dead  very  quick. 


/.      Epic  of  Wye-hka.  69 

His  brother  fell,  too,  not  alive, 

The  old  men  pushing  their  spears  through  him. 


Now  the  rest  had  cut  Tenkemiq, 

So  that  he  groaned  and  died  straightway. 
But  Wonketop,  great  chief,  dripped  much  blood, 

Fighting  alone,  one  against  many, 
And  he  could  not  strike  them  at  all, 

Because  his  legs  grew  weak  under  him. 
So  he  fell  down  and  hit  the  earth, 

Having  four  spears  in  his  one  body. 

Then  did  Khauketau  flee  away, 

Only  two,  he  and  his  brother. 
For  they  could  not  fight  any  more, 

Seeing  their  chief  fallen  down  dead. 
They  both  fled  home,  still  very  hungry, 

Xot  wishing  any  more  battle. 

But  the  men  of  Wangng-kwee  felt  great  joy, 

Dancing  about  those  four  bodies. 
Now  Wye-hha  danced  not  over  all, 

For  they  were  men  of  her  own  kith, 
Yet  over  Siktaq  she  danced  much, 

Having  fought  against  him  herself. 
Then  they  sat  down  and  held  council, 

For  to  know  what  was  the  best  thing. 
And  all  went  over  the  mountain, 

When  the  new  sun  had  made  it  morning, 
And  they  found  the  people  of  Hangng-kwee — 

Those  few  who  were  yet  alive  there. 


•jo  The   Tw Hi glit  of  the  Race. 

Then  did  Tengng-teeka,  great  chief,  speak, 

Standing,  strong  talker,  afar  off: 
"O  people  of  Ilangng-kwee,  small  tribe, 

Old  men,  children,  and  weak  women, 
Why  should  we  now  fall  upon  you, 

Making  you  all  dead  at  once? 
We  have  soothed  our  hearts  for  your  bad  deed, 

Dancing  at  four  whom  we  have  slain. 
How  can  you  longer  be  a  kith, 

Having  but  two  young  fighting  men? 
Come  therefore  over  to  Wangng-kwee, 

Being  henceforth  a  part  of  us. 
The  women  of  the  dead  are  ours, 

Which  is  the  best  thing  for  us, 
And  your  two  men  shall  build  winqwaums, 

Making  us  ten  and  five  households. 
So  shall  we  hunt  game  together, 

Being  at  peace  on  the  mountain, 
And  will  be  stronger  to  fight  the  Khangng-wengng, 

Bad  men  from  the  far  black  river." 

Then  answered  Khauketau's  brother, 

Speaking  forth,  strong  man,  with  his  mouth : 
"Strong  ones,  ye  people  of  Wangng-kwee, 

Who  are  a  very  large  many, 
Tengng-teeka  has  spoken  good  things, 

Pleasing  to  our  hearts,  who  are  few. 
It  was  a  bad  thing  which  Wonketop  did, 

Leading  us  against  you  by  stealth. 
Hence  we  will  come  over  to  you, 

Being  straightway  a  part  of  you. 
But  lest  we  grieve  for  his  dead  blood, 

Rising  up  some  day  against  you, 


/.     Epic  of  Wyc-hha.  ji 

Give  us  now  return  for  his  life, 
By  throw  of  hatchet  over  his  blood." 

So  two  men  stood  forth  of  the  four 

Who  had  put  spear  to  Wonketop, 
And  the  two  men  of  Hangng-kwee  stood, 

Throwing  from  afar  their  hatchets, 
And  killed  not  them,  but  were  appeased, 

Seeing  a  little  blood  run  down. 

So  these  two  tribes  became  one  kith, 

As  it  is  even  to  this  day. 
And  Tengng-teeka  took  Mauw-hha, 

Having  two  women,  as  a  chief  should. 
But  Teeteeka  took  no  one  else, 

Save  Wye-hha  only,  good  woman. 
She  was  his  woman  all  his  days, 

Which  were  many  times  ten  years  long, 
And  bore  him  children  six  and  three, 

Both  men-children  and  women-children. 
But  the  one  kith  is  called  Wangng-kwee-hangng, 

People  of  both  slopes,  to  this  day. 


72  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 


SECOND  TALE. 


THE  EPIC  OF  FIRE  AND  MUD. 


The  Yay-wee  lived  in  a  great  city, 

The  largest  town  of  men  under  the  sky — 
Two  and  ten  houses  on  the  morning-side, 

Three  and  ten  houses  on  the  evening-side, 
Four  and  ten  houses  on  the  sunshine-side, 

And  five  and  ten  houses  on  the  bear-side, 
Six  and  ten  houses  in  the  middle-side, 

And  sticks  in  the  ground  on  the  around-side. 
Their  houses  were  not  like  our  winqwaums, 

Nine  men  could  stand  up  straight  in  one  of  them. 

And  the  Yay-wee  were  strong  with  their  hands. 

Making  all  sorts  of  things  out  of  tree-bark, 
And  they  could  make  hard  things  out  of  mud 

By  putting  very  much  fire  into  it. 
But  it  was  bad  for  them  to  do  that  way, 

Teasing  the  strong  gods  of  dirt  and  fire. 
For  they  made  hollow  mud-stones,  large  and  small, 

For  little  lakes  to  drink  water  out  of, 
And  they  ate  their  meat  out  of  those  things — 

Not  out  of  twisted  oak-leaves,  as  we  do. 


//.     Epic  of  Fire  and  Mud. 

And  they  made  little  men  of  fire  and  mud, 
Smaller  than  the  fingers  of  a  man's  hand, 

And  they  said  their  prayers  to  those  little  things, 
But  not  to  the  tree-tops,  as  men  ought  to. 

Now  the  Khangng-wengng,  men  by  the  black  river, 

\Yere  very  sorry  about  the  Yay-wee. 
They  were  mad  because  they  were  so  many, 

Xot  being  strong  enough  to  fight  with  them. 
And  Yvoi-khoi,  their  chief,  called  them  together, 

Out  in  the  woods  in  front  of  the  winqwaums. 
Nine  men  sat  down  by  his  strong  hand, 

And  nine  men  more  sat  by  his  weak  hand ; 
But  he  sat  in  the  middle  of  them  all, 

Strong  man,  able  to  kill  two  good  fighters. 

Then  Yvoi-khoi,  the  chief,  opened  his  teeth, 

Talking  out  loud  to  all  his  men : 
"O  my  spear-people,  men  of  Khangng-wengng, 

Who  are  not  afraid  to  do  much  fighting, 
I  am  very  mad  down  in  my  throat, 

Thinking  about  the  people  of  Yay-wee. 
Do  not  all  your  hearts  feel  like  rabbits'  tails, 

Because  you  cannot  fight  with  that  people? 
When  I  was  young  I  went  to  see  them, 

Gaa-gaa,  my  brother,  going  with  me. 
They  live  down  by  the  other  black  river, 

We  walking  four  days  before  we  get  there. 
Now  they  have  many  winqwaums  down  yonder, 

Which  cannot  be  counted  all  at  once. 
And  they  are  not  like  our  people, 

But  they  can  do  strange  things  which  are  not  good. 


.  The   Twiliglit  of  the  Race. 

They  can  make  strong  stones  out  of  mud, 

By  putting  very  much  fire  into  them. 
They  make  little  mud-gods  to  help  them  fight, — 

But  I  am  not  scared  at  four  such  men, 
Because  there  are  many  trees  down  there, 

And  I  can  say  my  prayers  to  the  tree-tops. 
But  now  I  will  shut  my  teeth  and  listen, 

If  any  man's  heart  tells  him  to  talk." 

Then  Gaa-gaa,  the  chief's  brother,  answered  him, 

Rubbing  his  fingers  on  his  nose : 
"O  Vvoi-khoi,  my  brother,  strong  chief, 

My  heart  is  not  empty  about  those  men. 
I  am  mad  in  my  fingers  and  my  toes, 

Because  we  cannot  fight  with  them. 
Have  we  not  fought  with  the  Tickiteetee, 

Killing  five  of  them,  not  dying  ourselves? 
Have  we  not  fought  with  the  Wangng-kwee-hangng, 

So  that  they  are  afraid  to  think  of  us? 
Have  we  not  conquered  the  Snye-lippy, 

So  that  they  brought  us  bear-skins  and  ran  off? 
Have  we  not  killed  the  four  men  of  Zip-zip, 

Making  their  women  and  girls  our  women? 
But  the  Yay-wee  have  made  us  all  afraid, 

Ever  since  that  big  oak  tree  there  was  born. 
Our  hearts  are  like  very  small  rain-drops, 

Because  we  think  they  are  too  many. 
Now  listen  to  me  with  your  ears, 

And  I  will  tell  you  a  very  good  thing. 
Let  us  put  our  spears  under  our  arms, 

And  go  to  see  the  men  of  Yay-wee. 
Of  course  we  cannot  make  big  war  with  them, 

But  perhaps  they  will  fight  us  peaceably. 


//.     Epic  of  Fire  and  Mud. 

Let  them  stand  against  us,  one  against  one, 

And  we'll  show  them  what  our  spears  feel  like." 

Then  Gaa-gaa  put  his  hands  on  the  ground, 

And  would  not  say  anything  more. 
But  Vvoi-khoi,  great  chief,  spake  through  his  mouth, 

Holding  his  spear  above  his  head : 
"My  men,  Gaa-gaa  has  told  you  the  best  thing,    • 

Being  almost  as  brave  as  I  am. 
We  have  done  strong  things  to  every  tribe, 

Save  only  to  the  kith  of  Yay-wee. 
Now  if  we  can  make  them  think  about  us, 

Our  hearts  will  not  feel  so  crooked  inside. 
So  let  all  of  you  who  are  brave  men 

Put  your  spear-handles  between  your  teeth, 
But  all  who  are  afraid  to  go  down  there, 

Let  them  put  their  spears  down  on  the  ground." 

Then  Vvoi-khoi  put  his  spear  between  his  teeth, 
And  all  the  men  did  as  the  chief  did. 

Not  one  of  them  put  his  spear  on  the  ground, 
For  they  knew  it  would  be  a  bad  thing. 

So  the  warriors  of  Khangng-wengng  stood  up, 

And  they  did  not  wait  for  anything. 
They  did  not  take  their  clothes  off  at  all, 

Nor  dance  any  war-dance  that  night. 
They  walked  straight  out  through  the  black  woods, 

Each  man  with  a  man  in  front  of  him. 
But  Vvoi-khoi  had  no  one  in  front  of  him, 

Because  he  was  the  chief  of  that  tribe. 
Two  days  they  walked  down  that  valley, 

Finding  the  place  where  both  the  rivers  met; 


?6  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

Two  days  they  walked  up  the  other  valley, 

By  the  stream  that  the  Yay-wee  drank  out  of. 
They  had  not  much  to  eat  those  days, 

Not  hitting  the  blue  pigeons  with  their  spears. 
For  they  had  left  their  stone  hatchets  at  home, 

Not  wanting  to  lose  them  in  the  fight. 
It  takes  many  days  to  make  a  stone  axe, 

And  it  is  very  bad  to  lose  one. 

So  when  they  came  to  that  great  city, 

They  were  all  very  hungry  and  mad. 
And  they  shouted  a  great  yell  in  the  woods, 

Waiting  for  the  men  to  come  out  to  them. 
So  the  men  inside  there  heard  the  noise, 

And  they  all  came  out  to  hunt  for  it. 
And  they  found  the  nine  and  ten  men, 

Holding  their  spears  under  their  arms. 

Then  spake  Sellitoc,  chief  of  them  all, 

Strongest  of  their  five  small  chiefs : 
"You  there!  we  are  the  Yay-wee  people, 

Not  afraid  to  do  everything! 
Who  are  you  with  your  spears  under  your  arms, 

As  if  you  were  not  quite  ready  to  fight  ? 
I  do  not  let  wolves  howl  out  here, 

Hunting  for  the  game  that  I  want  to  eat!" 

Then  spake  forth  Vvoi-khoi  very  loud, 

Standing  in  front  of  all  the  rest : 
"O  men  of  Yay-wee,  we  are  the  Khangng-wengng, 

Strong  men  from  the  far  black  river. 
It  is  wrong  for  you  to  be  so  many ; 

Therefore  have  we  come  to  see  you. 


//.      Epic  of  Fire  and  Mud.  j 

But  first  give  us  the  best  meat  that  you  have, 
For  we  have  come  a  long  ways  not  eating." 

Then  Sellitoc  answered  not  anything, 

But  Sembic,  best  hunter,  spoke  in  his  place : 
"O  men,  I  killed  a  red  bear  yesterday, 

And  it  has  not  yet  been  eaten  up. 
Now  therefore  sit  down  upon  your  knees, 

And  put  your  noses  on  the  ground. 
If  you  throw  away  your  spears  and  do  this, 

You  shall  eat  bear-meat,  and  we  will  laugh  much." 

Then  spake  Vvoi-gab,  son  of  Vvoi-khoi's  sister, 

Not  keeping  still  because  he  was  mad : 
"O  Sembic,  we  have  not  come  to  talk  words, 

But  we  have  come  to'  fight  with  you. 
I  do  not  eat  men,  but  I  could  eat  thee, 

Because  I  like  deer-meat  very  much! 
We  cannot  fight  with  you  all  at  once, 

For  you  are  so  many  and  so  bad, 
But  let  nine  and  ten  men  stand  against  us ; 

They  shall  all  learn  what  our  spears  taste  like !" 

Then  the  Yay-wee  answered  not  right  away, 

But  held  council  together  about  it. 
Most  of  them  thought  it  was  a  bad  thing 

To  let  the  Khangng-wengng  fight  with  them  that  way. 
They  wanted  to  fall  on  them  all  at  once, 

Killing  the  life  out  of  their  throats. 
But  nine    and  ten  men  had  their  hearts  better, 

Standing  alone  before  the  others. 
They  wanted  to  fight  them  one  against  one, 

Because  that  was  a  better  way. 


7 8  The   Tivilight  of  the  Race. 

Then  spake  Sellitoc,  great  chief,  out  loud, 

Though  he  was  not  one  of  those  fighters : 
"O  you  who  have  come  to  us  like  bad  bears, 

These  nine  and  ten  men  will  stand  and  fight  you. 
The  rest  of  us  will  stand  and  watch  you, 

Holding  our  spears  under  our  arms. 
Now  if  all  of  you  stay  alive, 

We  will  let  you  live  and  give  you  good  things. 
But  if  any  of  you  fall  down  dead, 

Then  we  will  all  fight  you  with  our  spears. 
There  will  be  empty  places  in  Khangng-wengng, 

Where  you  used  to  lie  down  to  sleep. 
But  first  we  will  pray  to  the  dirt  and  fire, 

Strong  gods,  that  help  us  to  make  good  things. 
And  come,  my  men,  stand  now  in  a  round  shape, 

So  that  we  can  say  our  prayers  better."' 
Then  the  Khangng-wengng  were  sorry  in  their  knees, 

Wishing  that  they  were  back  home  again. 
But  they  could  not  turn  and  run  away, 

For  they  knew  the  Yay-wee  would  not  let  them. 

So  the  Yay-wee  prayed  to  the  dirt  and  fire, 

But  the  Khangng-wengng  prayed  to  the  tree-tops. 
Soi-pak,  the  oldest,  stood  in  the  middle, 

The  others  all  standing  around  him. 
And  they  all  put  their  heads  back  on  their  necks, 

Sending  the  noise  of  their  words  straight  up : 
"Tree-tops  !  strong  god-people !  tree-tops ! 

Call  the  sky-fire,  the  sky-fire  to  come  down ! 
Ask  it  to  kill  all  our  foes  for  us, 

So  that  our  spears  will  not  need  to  bite  them. 
For  they  pray  to  their  little  fire-mud  gocls, 

But  you  can  make  the  howling  thing  come  down. 


//.      Epic  of  Fire  and  Mud.  81 

Ask  it  to  burn  up  our  nine  and  ten  foes, 

So  that  the  rest  may  give  us  their  bear-meat !" 

Then  the  sky-fire  did  not  come  down, 

But  the  great  mud-fire  came  from  the  mountain. 
No  man  ever  saw  it  come  before, 

And  it  has  not  come  again  since  that  time 
It  made  noises  too  loud  to  listen  to, 

Walking  like  a  fire  river  down  the  hill. 
It  was  thick,  like  mud  full  of  much  water, 

Not  soft  and  quick,  like  other  fire. 
But  it  caught  all  the  people  of  Yay-wee, 

Making  them  dead  very  quickly, 
And  it  caught  half  the  men  of  Khangng-wengng, 

Letting  the  others  run  back  to  their  homes. 
They  were  very  glad  to  get  home  alive, 

Because  their  dead  comrades  made  them  sorry. 
But  that  mountain-fire  burned  for  three  winters. 

Filling  the  valley  up  full  with  hot  things, 
And  no  man  can  ever  live  there  again, 

Because  it  is  a  bad  place  now. 

So  the  biggest  city  of  all  was  killed, 

There  is  none  like  it  now  under  the  sky. 
And  no  man  dares  to  put  fire  into  mud, 

Making  hollow  things  to  eat  meat  out  of. 
It  is  bad  to  plague  those  god-people  so, 

For  they  get  angry  very  easily. 
And  no  warriors  now  call  to  the  sky-fire, 

Asking  it  to  come  and  help  them  fight, 
For  it  would  eat  up  half  of  them  also. 

And  it  is  not  safe  to  make  that  prayer. 


82  The   Twilight  jf  the  Race. 


THIRD   TALE. 
THE    EPIC    OF    KETOITOI. 


There  were  four  men  in  Ketoitoi, 

But  there  were  only  three  women  there, 

And  there  were  no  children  there  at  all, 
Because  they  had  not  been  born  yet. 

For  this  tribe  was  a  very  new  kith  then, 

All  of  them  having  come  from  somewhere  else. 

Now  Ketoitoi  was  a  very  large  hole, 

Going  down  side-ways  into  the  ground, 
And  it  was  always  dry  on  the  bottom, 

Not  any  rain  coming  in  there  at  all. 
And  it  was  night  in  there  all  the  time, 

So  that  they  could  see  nothing  except  fire ; 
But  near  the  outside  end  it  was  not  night, 

But  it  was  early  morning  there  all  day. 

Now  Gahg  had  taken  Weef  for  his  woman, 

Before  they  had  been  there  four  whole  moons, 
And  Oteek  was  Wayma's  man  all  the  time, 

They  having  come  from  the  same  place. 
But  Alahla  was  a  very  young  girl, 

Not  having  let  any  man  take  her  yet. 
But  she  liked  to  look  at  the  two  young  men, 

Because  they  both  wanted  to  have  her. 


///.      Epic  of  Ketoitoi.  83 

Thus  they  all  sat  around  their  large  fire, 
When  the  stars  had  made  it  night  outside. 

All  the  men  had  rabbit-skins  for  clothes, 
But  the  women  had  great  eagle-skins, 

And  the  feathers  looked  nice  all  around  them, 
Covering  up  half  of  their  bodies. 

Then  Wye-wye  looked  at  Alahla, 

Talking  out  loud  among  them  all : 
"O  people  of  the  tribe  of  Ketoitoi, 

My  tongue  is  trying  to  say  something. 
Alahla  is  tired  of  being  a  girl, 

For  she  is  growing  taller  very  fast. 
It  is  time  for  her  to  be  my  woman — 

Unless  Pellemic  there  wants  to  have  her. 
But  now  I  will  put  my  lips  together, 

Hearing  what  Pellemic  wants  to  say." 

Then  Wye-wye  kept  still  with  his  mouth, 

But  he  took  a  fire-brand  in  his  hand, 
And  he  was  a  very  strong  man, 

So  that  every  one  was  afraid  of  him. 
Then  Pellemic  answered  him  with  his  tongue, 

Trying  not  to  act  like  a  scared  man  : 
""O  Wye-wye  and  ye  folks  of  Ketoitoi, 

I  am  the  one  who  ought  to  talk  now. 
I  feel  very  sorry  all  the  time, 

Because  I  have  lived  alone  so  long. 
We  all  came  here  from  the  other  tribes, 

Because  there  was  not  enough  to  eat  there. 
But  I  would  rather  be  hungry  sometimes 

Than  to  live  alone  all  the  while. 


The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

And  there  is  only  one  girl  here, 

Which  is  a  bad  thing-  for  Wye-wye  and  me. 
Two  men  cannot  have  the  same  woman, 

For  that  is  not  the  right  way  to  do ; 
We  are  not  bad  people  like  the  Gang-goo, 

But  we  are  a  very  good  people. 
I  cannot  let  thee  have  this  girl,  Wye-wye, 

Because  she  is  good  and  her  face  is  round. 
And  I  will  not  take  her  myself, 

Because  I  do  not  wish  thee  to  kill  me. 
Now  Oteek  must  tell  us  what  to  do, 

For  he  is  old  and  knows  all  sorts  of  things. 
Not  one  of  us  has  much  hair  on  his  face, 

Except  Oteek  only,  our  great  chief." 

Then  spake  Oteek,  best  man,  very  slow, 

Putting  both  hands  upon  his  chin  : 
"O  people,  I  have  been  keeping  still, 

Because  Wye-wye  is  stronger  than  I  am. 
He  is  our  chief  when  we  fight  the  bad  bears, 

But  I  am  your  chief  to  tell  \vhci t  Is  best. 
Now  let  me  tell  you  what  I  myself  did, 

When  I  was  a  very  young  man. 
I  did  not  like  the  young  women  at  home, 

Because  their  faces  and  arms  were  not  good. 
So  I  went  to  a  tribe  far  away, 

Walking  all  alone  like  a  still  fox ; 
And  I  hid  in  the  bushes  near  by, 

Till  all  the  men  went  off  to  hunt  rabbits. 
Then  one  woman  walked  close  by  me, 

Going  to  drink  water  at  the  creek, 
But  I  did  not  try  to  catch  her, 

Because  she  had  a  baby  on  her  breast. 


///.     Epic  of  Ketoitoi.  85 

I  did  not  want  that  kind  of  a  woman, 

Knowing  that  I  could  get  a  younger  one. 
So  I  waited  until  Wayma  came  near  me, 

Going  herself  to  drink  water. 
Then  I  jumped  out  on  her  very  quick, 

Holding  her  mouth  shut  with  my  hands. 
And  she  fought  like  a  snake  in  a  hawk's  claws, 

Tearing  the  blood  out  of  my  skin. 
But  I  was  strong  enough  to  take  her  home, 

Before  any  one  could  come  and  help  her; 
And  she  has  been  my  woman  ever  since, 

Being  very  glad  now  that  I  caught  her. 
Now  listen,  Wye-wye  and  Pellemic, 

While  I  tell  you  what  is  the  best  thing. 
Let  Alahla  take  the  man  she  likes  best, 

And  the  other  man  will  do  what  I  did. 
Kc  will  hunt  for  a  girl  and  bring  her  here, 

Making  us  eight  people  in  Ketoitoi." 

Then  Oteek  looked  at  both  their  faces, 

Seeing  that  they  liked  what  he  had  said. 
And  they  put  their  faces  in  their  hands, 

That  their  eyes  might  not  twist  Alahla's  heart. 
But  Alahla  stood  up  on  her  feet, 

Going  straight  to  where  Wye-wye  sat, 
And  she  put  her  hands  in  his  hair, 

Knowing  he  was  the  strongest  and  best  man. 

Then  Wye-wye  was  very  glad  all  over, 

Because  the  girl  was  going  to  be  his, 
And  he  began  to  talk  again, 

They  all  listening  to  hear  what  he  said : 


86  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

"Men  of  Ketoitoi,  I  am  very  glad, 

Because  the  girl  knows  I  am  the  best  man. 
Now  listen  to  me  with  your  ears, 

Hearing  what  good  things  I  know  how  to  say. 
I  am  not  your  chief  with  my  hands  only, 

But  I  can  be  your  chief  with  my  tongue  also. 
Pellemic  must  go  and  find  a  girl, 

But  he  must  not  catch  her  as  Oteek  did. 
The  men  there  would  kill  him  with  many  spears, 

If  they  should  happen  to  see  him. 
And  our  tribe  is  not  big  enough 

That  we  can  afford  to  lose  any  one. 
If  some  kith  should  come  here  and  fight  with  us, 

It  would  be  a  bad  thing  for  us. 
There  is  no  other  tribe  so  small  as».ours — 

At  least  not  this  side  of  the  great  mountains. 
Now  let  me  tell  you  a  better  way, 

Because  it  is  so  much  safer. 
We  are  not  any  of  us  drunk  to-night, 

So  we  can  afford  to  do  the  right  thing. 
Let  us  all  work  hard  with  our  hands, 

Making  stone  axe-heads  and  other  good  things. 
Then  Pellemic  can  take  them  with  him, 

Getting  a  girl  without  fighting  for  her. 
Her  people  will  be  glad  to  take  those  things, 

Because  men  do  not  like  to  work  hard." 

Then  they  all  thought  about  it  and  said  yes, 
To  do  what  their  new  chief  had  told  them. 

They  thought  it  much  better  to  live  at  peace 
Than  to  make  some  other  tribe  angry. 

So  in  the  morning  they  all  found  flint  stones, 
Working  nine  days  to  make  the  good  tilings. 


"That  their  eyes  mi^ht  not  twist  Alahla's  heart." 

87 


///.      Epic  of  Ketoitoi.  80 

Four  large  axe-heads  were  all  they  could  make, 

Chipping  off  one  stone  against  another. 
But  they  made  spear-heads,  too,  very  many, 

Twice  as  many  as  a  man  can  count. 
And  Gahg  made  eight  smooth  spear-handles  of  wood, 

Knowing  how  to  use  stone  knives  best  of  all. 

But  when  they  had  done  this  way  ten  days, 

They  all  got  tired  of  working  so  much, 
And  they  sent  Pellemic  away, 

Carrying  all  he  could  in  his  arms. 
It  was  a  good  time  for  him  to  go, 

For  the  moon  was  getting  round  on  both  sides. 
So  he  went  off  to  the  land  of  Fimfam, 

Walking  two  whole  days  as  hard  as  he  could. 
A  deer  could  go  there  in  one  day, 

But  he  had  his  arms  very  full. 

Now  Fimfam  was  a  great  hole  in  the  ground, 

Larger  than  the  hole  at  Ketoitoi, 
But  the  people  did  not  live  inside, 

Except  when  the  rain  blew  very  cold. 
They  had  ten  winqwaums  out  in  the  air, 

Because  that  tribe  had  been  there  a  long  time. 
And  Pellemic  stood  still,  looking  at  them, 

Having  never  seen  so  many  before. 

But  Vessiloo,  their  chief,  called  to  him, 
Having  spied  him  out  there  in  the  woods : 

"Who  art  thou  that  I  never  saw  before, 
Standing  out  there  and  keeping  still? 

Come  in  here  and  put  thy  hands  inside  mine — 
Unless  thou  art  a  fox  come  to  steal  things." 


The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

Then  Pellemic  came  close  to  the  winqwaums, 

Putting  his  hands  inside  the  chief's  hands, 
And  all  the  people  came  around  them, 

Wanting  to  see  who  the  new  man  was. 
And  Pellemic  said :    "I  am  Pellemic, 

One  of  the  men  of  Ketoitoi. 
And  there  are  not  any  girls  in  that  land, 

Therefore  have  I  come  here  to  get  one. 
And  I  have  brought  you  all  these  good  things, 

So  as  not  to  have  to  fight  you  for  her. 
Now  therefore  bring  all  the  girls  before  me, 

That  I  may  see  which  one  is  good  enough." 

Then  Vessiloo  said :    "O  Pellemic, 

Thou  shalt  never  take  one  of  my  two  girls. 
I  do  not  want  the  chief's  girls  to  go 

Where  there  are  no  winqwaums  to  live  in. 
But  Fayco  and  Teleelee  shall  stand  forth 

That  thou  mayst  see  what  they  are  like. 
It  may  be  thou  canst  have  one  of  them 

If  thou  wilt  do  what  we  bid  thee  to  do." 
Then  Fayco  stood  up  first  before  them  all, 

Being  a  very  tall  young  woman. 
She  was  very  strong  in  her  arms, 

And  the  eagle-skin  looked  nice  around  her. 
And  Vessiloo  said  :    "O  Pellemic, 

This  girl  has  no  father  living  now. 
Give  us  all  the  good  things  thou  hast  brought, 

And  thou  canst  take  her  home  to  Ketoitoi. 
But  let  Teleelee  stand  up  also, 

Before  thou  seekest  to  say  yes  or  no. 
There  is  no  girl  so  good  to  look  at, 

Because  she  has  pictures  on  her  skin. 


///.     Epic  of  Ketoitoi. 

If  them  shalt  wish  to  take  her  home  with  thee, 
Thou  shalt  give  all  thy  things  to  her  father, 

And  for  us  thou  shalt  cut  down  ten  oak  trees, 
Making  wood  for  fire  for  all  our  winqwaums." 

Then  Teleelee  stood  up  before  them  all, 

Making  Pellemic  want  her  very  much. 
She  had  pictures  cut  in  her  skin, 

From  her  ankles  up  to  her  cheek  bones- 
Picture  of  a  mammoth  with  much  hair, 

Having  its  two  big  teeth  very  long — 
Picture  of  a  fierce  boar  in  the  woods, 

With  six  hungry  wolves  trying  to  kill  it — 

Picture  of  a  man  fighting  a  bad  bear, 

Making  it  die  with  his  stone  spear — 
Picture  of  four  children  and  a  woman 

Sitting  in  a  great  hole  in  the  ground, 
Watching  for  a  man  coming  home  there, 

Having  a  deer  carried  on  his  back. 
And  between  the  pictures  were  other  things, 

Straight  and  crooked  marks,  making  her  look  good. 

Then  Pellemic  spoke  before  them  all, 

Putting  his  hands  in  front  of  him : 
"O  Vessiloo  and  ye  men  of  Fimfam, 

I  will  have  Teleelee  for  my  woman. 
I  will  work  for  you  many  days, 

Cutting  down  ten  oak  trees  for  your  winqwaums." 

So  Pellemic  began  on  a  large  tree, 

Chipping  off  the  bark  with  a  stone  axe. 

But  Fayco  watched  him,  feeling  very  mad, 
Because  he  did  not  like  her  the  best. 


$2  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

Her  heart  got  very  bad  toward  him, 

Wishing  she  could  make  him  feel  sorry. 
So  she  thought  about  it  eight  whole  days, 

Not  saying  anything  to  anyone. 
But  on  the  ninth  day  she  called  the  chief's  girls, 

Taking  them  into  the  great  dark  hole. 
There  was  not  anyone  else  inside  there, 

So  they  could  say  just  what  they  wanted  to. 

Then  Fayco  put  her  hands  on  their  arms, 

Talking  not  very  loud  to  them : 
"O  girls  of  Vessiloo,  our  great  chief, 

There  is  something  crooked  between  my  ribs. 
My  heart  makes  a  great  noise  in  me, 

Because  the  stranger  did  not  like  me  best. 
You  know  that  I  am  better  than  Teleelee, 

Because  my  arms  and  legs  are  very  strong, 
And  I  am  stronger  than  you,  too, — 

If  your  father  were  not  the  chief ! 
Now  listen  to  what  I  want  to  do, 

You  going  with  me  to  help  me. 
To-morrow  Pellemic  will  go  off, 

Making  Teleelee  go  with  him. 
Now  let  us  lie  in  wait  in  the  woods, 

Killing  them  both  quite  dead  by  surprise. 
It  is  good  to  do  bad  things  to  that  man, 

Because  I  do  not  like  him  at  all. 
And  not  one  of  us  likes  Teleelee, 

Because  she  has  pictures  all  over  her. 
The  men  all  used  to  look  at  her  too  mudi, 

Forgetting  that  we  are  better  than  she." 


///.      Epic  of  Ketoitoi. 

Then  the  chief's  younger  girl  said  yes, 

Because  she  enjoyed  doing  strong  things, 
But  the  older  girl  was  more  careful, 

Not  liking  to  fight  with  a  large  man. 
And  she  said :    "O  girl  without  a  father, 

Let  us  not  try  to  do  this  thing. 
I  feel  black  toward  Teleelee  here  with  us, 

But  she  will  go  off  and  never  come  back. 
I  do  not  want  to  get  cut  to  pieces, 

Not  being  so  angry  as  thou  art." 

Then  Fayco  put  her  lip  between  her  teeth, 

Making  the  blood  come  out  of  it, 
And  she  spoke  again  to  those  two  girls, 

Putting  her  fingers  in  their  necks : 
"O  girls  of  some  little  old  man, 

The  chief  was  not  your  father  after  ail ! 
If  you  want  me  not  to  say  that  again, 

Bring  your  hatchets  and  spears  and  help  me  fight ! 
Then  I  will  cut  half  of  my  nose  off, 

So  that  the  men  will  not  like  me. 
The  two  best  men  in  the  tribe  shall  take  you, 

Making  you  glad  to  be  their  women, 
And  the  man  with  one  foot  will  take  me, 

Because  he  cannot  get  anyone  else. 
I  am  strong  enough  to  hunt  deer  for  him, 

\Vhile  he  stays  at  home  and  makes  spears  for  me. 
Something  is  in  me  now  like  a  mad  snake, 

And  I  must  fight  till  I  get  it  all  out !" 

Then  both  the  girls  said  yes  to  go  with  her, 
For  they  had  begun  to  feel  like  fighting, 


The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

And  they  went  that  night  out  into  the  woods, 
Where  Pellemic  had  to  pass  next  morning. 

And  they  waited  there,  keeping  very  still, 
Till  Pellemic  and  Teleelee  came  near. 

Then  Fayco  threw  her  spear  at  Pellemic, 

While  the  others  threw  at  Teleelee, 
But  they  did  not  hit  them  at  all, 

Because  a  man  had  been  killed  there  before. 
Two  men  cannot  be  killed  at  the  same  place, 

Because  the  dead  man's  wind  stays  there  and  fights. 
Then  they  all  rushed  together  and  fought, 

Striking  very  hard  with  their  stone  hatchets, 
And  they  scared  away  the  dead  man's  wind, 

Because  they  made  so  much  yelling. 
So  the  man  struck  his  axe  on  Fayco's  face, 

Cutting  part  of  her  head  clear  off, 
And  she  became  all  dead  with  blood 

Before  she  could  fall  down  to  the  ground. 
And  Teleelee  cut  the  youngest  girl's  arms 

So  that  she  could  not  fight,  but  could  run  off. 

Then  the  girls  ran  off  very  fast, 

Leaving  Teleelee  and  the  man  not  hurt. 
B'ut  when  they  came  to  the  town  of  Firnfam 

They  told  lies  to  the  chief  and  to  his  men. 
They  said  Pellemic  had  lain  in  wait, 

Trying  to  steal  from  their  necks  the  bear's  teeth. 
They  said  he  would  have  killed  them  all 

If  they  had  not  run  away  so  hard. 

Then  did  the  Fimfam  get  very  mad, 

Seeing  the  chief's  girl  all  covered  with  blood, 


///.      Epic  of  Kctoitoi.  95 

And  they  danced  the  big  war-dance  that  night, 

Getting  ready  to  fight  the  Ketoitoi. 
They  threw  rotten  meat,  too,  into  the  fire. 

So  as  to  smell  bad  and  make  them  angry. 

But  Pellemic  got  home  safely, 

Making  the  people  glad  to  see  him. 
And  they  all  sat  down  in  the  great  hole, 

Even  the  eight  people  of  Ketoitoi. 
But  Wye-wye  was  only  glad  part  way  through : 

He  wanted  to  have  the  best  things  himself, 
And  no  woman  there  was  like  Teleelee, 

Having  nice  pictures  on  her  skin. 

So  Wye-wye,  the  new  chief,  opened  his  mouth, 

Speaking  out  straight  at  Pellemic's  face : 
"O  Pellemic,  the  chief  is  the  strongest 

And  he  must  have  the  best  woman. 
Now  therefore  let  thy  woman  and  mine  fight, 

That  I  may  know  which  one  I  must  have. 
If  Alahla  can  pound  this  new  woman, 

I  will  never  take  her  away  from  thee." 
So  Teleelee  stood  up  out  doors, 

And  Alahla  pounded  her  with  her  hands. 
For  Teleelee  did  not  strike  hard  at  her, 

Because  she  liked  Pellemic  already. 

But  the  men  of  Fimfam  came  before  night, 
Ten  good  fighters  with  spears  in  their  hands. 

And  Vessiloo  called  to  the  Ketoitoi, 
Telling  them  what  the  matter  was. 

Then  Wye-wye,  great  chief,  called  back  to  him, 
Knowing  how  to  say  the  right  thing : 


The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

"O  Vessiloo,  my  knees  are  not  scared, 

But  my  heart  tells  me  not  to  fight  with  you. 
Now  therefore  listen  to  my  words, 

Flying  from  my  mouth  straight  to  your  ears. 
Thou  sayest  that  Pellemic  lay  in  wait, 

Trying  to  do  bad  things  to  thy  girls, 
But  I  say  thy  girls  lay  in  wait  for  him, 

Because  Fayco  had  teased  them  to  do  it. 
And  she  will  always  be  dead  after  this, 

So  that  we  cannot  ask  her  about  it. 
Now  therefore  let  two  of  us  fight  with  stones, 

Throwing  at  each  other  from  a  long  ways. 
If  thou  shalt  hit  Pellemic  first, 

He  has  told  a  lie  and  is  a  bad  man. 
Then  you  may  all  fight  us  with  your  spears, 

And  we  will  kill  all  that  we  can  of  you ! 
But  if  Pellemic  hits  thee  with  a  stone, 

He  is  a  good  man,  and  we  will  be  friends." 

So  Vessiloo  and  Pellemic  stood  forth, 

For  the  speech  had  pleased  the  men  of  both  tribes. 
And  Pellemic  jumped  to  one  side, 

Not  letting  the  large  white  stone  hit  him, 
But  he  threw  a  small  black  stone  very  fast, 

Hitting  Vessiloo,  great  chief,  on  the  arm. 
Then  the  men  of  both  tribes  came  together, 

Putting  their  hands  inside  each  other's  hands, 
And  they  did  not  fight  with  their  spears  at  all, 

But  ate  deer-meat  out  of  the  same  fire. 
And  the  men  of  Fimfam  stayed  there  all  night, 

Waiting  for  the  sun  to  make  it  morning. 
Then  they  put  their  spears  over  their  shoulders, 

And  walked  back  to  where  their  own  land  was. 


///.     Epic  of  Ketoitoi. 

And  thus  these  two  great  tribes  parted  in  peace, 
And  they  have  had  no  war  even  to  this  day. 

But  they  have  children  now,  and  old  men, 
And  all  kinds  of  people  in  Ketoitoi. 


$8  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 


FOURTH  TALE. 
THE  EPIC  OF  BIG  HUNTING. 


There  were  two  nations  in  the  blue  valley, 

One  of  men-people,  and  one  of  mammoths. 
And  the  men-people  had  winqwaums, 

Keeping  the  sky  off  of  their  skins ; 
And  they  had  clothes  to  put  on  their  bodies, 

Keeping  their  eyes  off  of  each  other ; 
And  they  had  clubs  and  hatchets  and  spears, 

To  help  them  when  they  made  war. 
But  the  mammoth  tribe  lived  under  the  rain, 

Having  no  winqwaums  except  the  tree-leaves, 
And  they  had  no  clothes  to  put  on, 

And  their  clubs  grew  out  of  their  heads  forward. 

Now  the  tribe  of  men  was  called  Belang-go, 

But  the  mammoth-tribe  was  called  Begoos-go. 
And  the  Belang-go  killed  game  and  ate  it, 

But  the  Begoos-go  ate  grass  and  leaves. 
So  both  nations  lived  together  in  peace, 

Because  neither  could  steal  from  the  other, 
And  the  men  knew  the  mammoths  were  not  game, 

But  big  things  having  devils  in  them. 
It  would  not  be  safe  to  make  war  with  them, 

Because  the  devils  were  so  bad. 


IV,     Epic  of  Big  Hunting.  pp 

But  there  was  one  man  in  Belang-go 

Who  was  not  like  other  men. 
Gargadog  was  his  name, 

Because  he  always  liked  to  try  new  things. 
And  he  spent  many  days  in  Begoos-go, 

Watching  how  the  big  people  there  lived. 
And  he  wanted  to  put  spears  into  them, 

Because  they  looked  so  much  like  game. 

Then  Gargadog  sat  one  night  by  the  fire, 

Where  the  warriors  of  Belang-go  all  sat. 
And  they  looked  at  him  cornerwise, 

Because  they  knew  that  he  did  strange  things. 
But  Gargadog  said  :    "O  warriors, 

Why  are  we  afraid  of  the  Begoos-go  ? 
If  I  and  my  spear  were  big  enough 

I  could  cut  the  devils  all  out  of  them. 
There  is  no  game  so  large  as  the  mammoth : 

One  of  them  would  feed  us  for  many  moons. 
Come  now,  let  us  lie  in  wait  for  them, 

And  find  out  what  their  skin  is  made  of !" 

But  Stargol,  chief  of  that  kith,  answered  him, 

Folding  his  hands  under  his  arms : 
"O  Gargadog,  foolish  man, 

Thou  art  not  talking  good  things ! 
\Ve  could  not  kill  a  mammoth, 

For  he  is  bigger  than  everything, 
And  he  has  two  teeth  in  front  of  him, 

And  a  soft  club  to  kill  men  with. 
And  I  would  not  eat  him  when  he  is  dead, 

Because  he  has  a  devil  in  him. 


ioo  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

It  is  not  bad  to  eat  the  flesh  of  game, 

For  that  is  what  all  men  eat, 
And  it  is  not  bad  to  eat  a  man's  flesh 

If  he  has  tried  to  kill  you  in  the  back. 
He  is  a  bad  man  then, 

And  we  are  very  angry  with  him. 
But  I  will  never  eat  mammoth's  flesh, 

Because  the  devil  in  it  would  kill  us !" 

Then  the  men  talked  no  more  together, 

Because  there  was  a  storm  that  night. 
The  wind  tried  hard  to  push  them  over, 

And  the  rain  came  down  and  spit  in  their  fire. 
And  the  sky  broke  open  very  bright, 

Making  noises  when  it  fell  together. 
But  there  was  another  noise  in  the  woods, 

Down  the  path  where  they  always  went  hunting. 
And  the  men  looked  that  way,  very  much  scared, 

For  they  saw  it  was  the  Begoos-go, 
And  they  knew  if  they  stepped  on  their  winqwaums, 

Nobody  inside  would  stay  alive. 

Then  the  Begoos-go  kept  coming  nearer, 

Hiaving  crazy  things  in  their  hearts  that  night, 
And  they  held  their  clubs  up  in  the  air, 

Blowing  big  bad  noises  through  them. 
But  they  did  not  step  on  the  winqwaums, 

Because  the  sky-fire  would  not  let  them. 
It  fell  down  just  then  right  in  the  midst, 

Making  the  mammoth-people  all  run  off. 

But  when  night  had  stayed  as  long  as  it  could, 
And  morning  came  back  out  of  the  sunshine, 


IV.     Epic  of  Big  Hunting.  101 

Something  big  was  lying  on  the  path, 

Looking  like  a  hill  with  wool  on  it. 
And  Gargadog  said,  "O  Stargol, 

The  sky-fire  was  very  good  to  us ! 
It  has  made  one  mammoth  not  alive, 

Though  it  had  more  breath  in  it  than  all  men. 
And  now  we  can  eat  its  flesh  safely, 

For  the  good  Sky  has  killed  the  devil  all  out !" 

But  Stargol  said,  "O  Gargadog, 

Thou  shalt  eat  a  piece  of  the  mammoth, 
But  none  of  us  will  taste  of  it 

Till  we  see  what  it  has  done  to  thee. 
If  it  does  not  make  thee  to  do  bad  things, 

We  shall  know  that  the  devil  is  all  out." 

So  Gargadog  ate  some  of  the  meat, 

And  he  felt  almost  scared  himself 
But  it  did  not  make  him  dead  at  all, 

Nor  crazy  and  bad  inside. 
Then  the  others  dared  to  make  a  feast, 

Eating  many  days  as  hard  as  they  could. 
But  they  could  not  eat  it  all  up, 

Because  only  vultures  eat  old  meat. 
Afterward  they  made  winqwaums  of  the  skin, 

Much  nicer  than  their  old  ones. 
They  did  not  need  a  pole  in  the  middle, 

For  the  skin  stood  up  stiff  all  alone. 
And  they  made  lots  of  things  out  of  the  teeth, 

Big  white  teeth,  longer  than  two  men. 

Then  the  Belang-go  men  liked  Gargadog, 
Because  he  had  taught  them  to  eat  mammoth, 


IO2  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

And  they  listened  when  he  talked  to  them, 

Calling  them  together  by  the  fire : 
"Men  of  Belang-go,  strong  people, 

There  is  no  tribe  that  knows  so  much  as  you. 
You  have  learned  to  eat  mammoth-meat, 

Because  I  taught  you  how. 
Now  come,  let  me  tell  you  another  thing, 

Which  is  still  better  for  us. 
If  we  can  kill  a  mammoth  ourselves, 

All  tribe-kiths  will  be  afraid  of  us. 
They  will  not  come  here  then  to  fight  us, 

Stealing  game  out  of  our  valley. 
For  no  nation  ever  killed  a  mammoth, 

Unless  it  was  small  or  a  sick  one, 
But  we  will  try  to  kill  Boo-goo, 

The  great  bull-chief  of  Begoos-go. 
Perhaps  the  devil's  wind  is  in  his  mouth, 

But  I  know  how  we  can  kill  it  out ! 
Then  we  can  eat  very  much  of  his  flesh, 

(It  is  good  for  men  to  eat  all  they  can,) 
And  we  will  dry  part  of  it  in  the  sun, 

And  part  by  building  fires  under  it. 
That  will  make  meat  to  use  all  winter, 

When  we  have  to  go  hungry  now. 
Then  we  shall  not  be  sorry  any  more 

When  our  women  bear  too  many  small  ones, 
For  we  shall  have  enough  for  them  to  eat, — 

If  we  hunt  some  rabbits  also/' 

Then  Gargadog  said  no  more, 

But  the  people  looked  very  much  pleased. 
And  Stargol,  great  chief,  wanted  to  say  no, 

Not  to  go  and  make  war  with  Boo-goo, 


IV.     Epic  of  Big  Hunting. 

But  he  did  not  dare  to  say  anything, 

Because  he  knew  the  people  would  go, 
And  he  would  be  the  chief  not  any  more 

If  the  people  went  when  he  had  said  no. 

So  these  men  left  the  land  of  Belang-go. 

And  walked  into  the  land  of  Begoos-go. 
Each  man  carried  four  spears, 

And  some  had  stone  hatchets  also. 
And  Stargol  walked  in  front  of  them  all, 

Because  he  was  the  chief  yet. 

Then  they  found  the  path  where  the  mammoths  walk, 

And  Boogoo  was  coming  down  to  meet  them. 
He  did  not  know  that  they  had  corne, 

But  he  wanted  to  taste  some  creek-water. 
So  the  men  hid  up  in  the  tree-tops, 

Climbing  with  their  legs  against  the  bark. 
And  when  he  walked  under  where  they  were, 

They  threw  many  spears  down  into  him, 
Which  hurt  him  like  thistles  in  a  man's  hand, 

[Jut  did  not  make  any  blood  come  out. 
But  Gargadog  jumped  down  himself 

Onto  the  broad  back  of  Boo-goo. 
And  he  fell  with  his  spear  front  end  down, 

Reaching  very  sharp  below  his  feet. 
So  he  made  Boo-goo's  blood  come  out, 

While  he  himself  fell  off,  not  getting  killed. 
But  Boo-goo  went  off  very  mad. 

Wishing  the  Belang-go  had  not  come. 

Then  Gargadog  tried  another  way. 

Showing  the  men  where  to  hide  in  bushes. 


The   TiviligJit  of  tJic  Race. 

And  when  Boo-goo  came  down  to  drink  again, 

They  threw   spears  at  his  eyes,   very   many. 
They  wanted  to  make  his  eyes  blind, 

So  they  could  kill  him  slowly  afterwards. 
But  they  could  not  hit  them  at  all, 

Because  they  were  so  little, 
And  the  devil  look  was  so  fierce  in  them 

That  it  turned  the  spears  to  one  side. 

But  Boo-goo  found  the  men  of  Belang-go, 

Killing  two  of  them  very  quickly. 
On  Tillip  he  put  his  big  foot, 

Making  him  in  pieces  like  a  toadstool, 
And  Stargol's  brother  he  took  with  his  club, 

Throwing  him  very  far  against  a  tree, — 
Farther  than  a  slim  spear  can  jump, 

Thrown  by  a  strong  man's  hand. 

Then  the  hunters  ran  off  every  way, 

Being  very  glad  not  to  be  dead  ; 
And  they  were  mad  at  Boo-goo,  the  great  bull-chief, 

And  wanted  to  kill  him  worse  than  ever. 
So  Gargadog  told  them  a  new  way, 

And  they  worked  hard  many  days  to  try  it. 
They  found  three  trees  standing  together, 

And  cut  one  of  them  in  two,  high  up, 
And  they  tied  the  cut  part  to  the  two  trees, 

Using  strong  young  withies  to  bind  with. 
And  in  the  bottom  of  the  cut  log 

They  made  a  deep  hole,  digging  slowly, 
And  in  the  hole  they  put  a  sharp  spear-head, 

Making  it  on  purpose,  fearfully  large. 


IV.     Epic  of  Big  Hunting.  105 

So  when  Boo-goo,  great  one,  came  under  them, 

They  cut  all  the  withies  to  pieces, 
And  the  great  log-spear  fell  down  heavy, 

Striking  way  deep  into  Boo-goo's  back. 
Then  a  river  came  pouring  out  all  red, 

Making  him  groan  like  the  sky-noises ; 
But  even  that  did  not  kill  the  mammoth, 

For  he  had  so  much  breath  in  his  heart, 
And  the  Belang-go  were  sorry  and  mad, 

Having  tried  everything  they  knew. 
So  they  walked  back  to  where  their  winqwaums  were, 

Wishing  they  had  not  gone  to  Begoos-go. 

But  Gargadog  did  not  give  up  trying, 

For  he  knew  how  to  think  a  long  while. 
And  he  talked  one  night  to  all  the  men, 

Stargol  wishing  that  he  would  keep  still : 
"O  men,  warriors  of  Belang-go, 

Followers  of  Stargol,  our  great  chief, 
You  all  call  me  Gargadog, 

Because  I  think  of  so  many  new  things. 
Now  listen  to  what  I  will  tell  you, 

Being  a  thing  which  will  be  good  for  us. 
We  did  not  kill  Boo-goo,  great  mammoth, 

Because  we  did  not  try  the  right  way. 
But  come,  let  us  work  and  dig  a  big  hole, 

And  put  sharp  spears  in  the  bottom  of  it, 
And  put  twigs  all  over  the  top, 

So  that  Boo-goo  will  step  right  into  it. 
He  .will  never  climb  out  of  that  place, 

For  the  spears  will  make  him  all  dead  with  blood !" 


106  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 


Then  Gargadog,  strong  hunter,  kept  still, 

Waiting  to  hear  what  they  would  say. 
But  Stargol,  the  chief,  was  angry, 

Talking  out  loud  between  his  teeth : 
"O  Gargadog,  thou  art  a  bad  man, 

Trying  to  make  trouble  for  us  all ! 
If  thou  shalt  talk  here  thus  ever  again, 

I  will  put  a  new  spear  through  thy  waist ! 
For  I  am  much  stronger  than  thou, 

And  I  can  kill  thee  very  much  !" 

But  Gargadog  was  not  scared  at  Stargol, 

But  said  what  he  wanted  to,  out  loud : 
"O  men  of  Belang-go,  strong  men, 

I  will  not  talk  here  any  more. 
If  you  think  I  have  said  the  right  thing, 

Follow  me  with  your  children  and  women. 
But  if  Stargol  knows  more  than  I  do. 

Stay  here  with  him,  for  he  is  your  chief." 

Then  Stargol,  great  chief,  sat  still  where  he  was, 
And  half  of  the  tribe  staid  there  with  him. 

But  half  liked  Gargadog's  way  the  best, 
Following  him  out  into  the  woods. 

And  they  started  a  new  tribe  out  there. 

Called  the  kith  of  Belang-wang  to  this  clay. 

So  the  Belang-wang  made  Gargadog  chief, 
And  they  dug  a  large  hole  in  the  ground. 

And  five  of  Stargol's  men  came  to  join  them, 
Because  they  had  changed  their  minds. 

And  they  all  worked  hard  many  days, 
Until  the  hole  became  large  enough. 


IV.     Epic  of  Big  Hunting.  107 

Then  they  stuck  strong  spears  into  the  bottom, 

Very  many,  having  the  sharp  end  up, 
And  they  laid  branches  all  over  the  top, 

Safe  enough  for  a  man  to  walk  on. 
But  a  mammoth  would  break  through  easily, 

Because  he  has  too  much  inside  of  him. 


Then  Gargadog  went  to  see  Boo-goo, 

He  and  two  others  in  the  great  path. 
And  while  Boo-goo  tried  to  run  and  kill  them, 

The  other  mammoths  staid  back  where  they  were. 
So  Gargadog  ran  to  the  big  hole, 

And  all  three  went  clear  over  it  safely, 
And  Boo-goo  ran  very  fast  after  them, 

Not  knowing  there  was  a  hole  there. 
But  when  he  fell  in,  he  was  very  mad, 

Knowing  that  he  would  soon  be  dead, 
F"or  the  spears  stuck  into  him,  way  in  deep, 

Three  times  as  many  as  a  man  can  count. 
So  his  blood  all  went  out  of  him  beneath, 

And  his  breath  went  out  of  him  in  front, 
And  he  could  not  bellow  any  more, 

Because  he  was  all  dead  inside. 

Then  the  men  of  Belang-wang  had  great  joy, 

Dancing  about  the  hole  in  the  ground, 
And  they  feasted  all  they  wanted  to, 

Eating  the  mammoth's  flesh  over  the  fire. 
But  Waylee,  Gargadog' s  sister's  man, 

Knew  how  to  make  pictures  on  mammoths'  teeth. 
He  made  a  picture  of  Boo-goo  himself, 

Giving  the  piece  of  tooth  to  his  woman. 


io8 


The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 


Elfill  was  her  name,  the  chief's  sister, 
And  she  wore  it  on  her  neck,  to  look  nice. 

But  Stargol's  men,  they  were  sore  sorry, 

Not  coming  to  the  feast,  of  course. 
They  wished  they  had  helped  in  the  great  hunting, 

But  it  was  too  late  now. 
And  they  were  afraid  to  stay  where  they  were, 

Living  as  before  in  the  blue  valley, 


Portrait  of  Boo-goo.     (Now  in  Paris.) 


For  Belang-wang  was  the  larger  tribe, 
Having  two  warriors  to  their  one, 

And  the  Belang-wang  did  not  like  them  now, 
Because  they  knew  they  were  cowards. 

So  the  Belang-go,  the  few  who  remained. 

Left  the  country  to  hunt  them  a  new  home. 
They  crossed  the  large  river  on  small  logs, 

Sitting  with  their  feet  in  the  water. 


IV.     Epic  of  Big  Hunting.  lop 

And  they  let  the  wind  push  on  their  backs, 

So  as  to  get  them  across. 
And  they  have  never  yet  come  back, 

Though  many  moons  have  passed  around  since  then. 
Nobody  knows  where  they  have  gone  to, 

But  people  are  sure  they  have  gone  somewhere. 

But  the  Belang-wang  are  a  great  tribe  now, 

Living  in  the  blue  valley  all  alone. 
Every  year  they  kill  a  great  mammoth, 

Which  is  the  best  thing  men  ever  did. 
And  no  tribe  wants  to  come  and  fight  with  them, 

Because  they  can  do  so  much  with  their  hands. 


no  The  Twilight  of  the  Race. 


FIFTH  TALE. 

THE  EPIC  OF   THE   BOW-SPEAR, 

The  world  was  very  young  once, 

And  men  had  not  lived  in  it  long. 
But  it  was  dreadfully  old  at  this  time, 

When  the  three  tribes  lived  by  the  short  river. 
Fye-wye,  Fing-wingng,  and  Fak-waq, 

These  were  the  names  of  those  tribes, 
But  no  one  knew  why  they  were  called  that  way, 

Because  they  had  lived  there  such  a  long  time, — 
Longer  than  it  takes  a  great  oak  tree, 

Growing  very  slow,  to  get  old  and  die, — 
Longer  than  it  takes  ten  great  oak  trees, 

Each  one  being  father  of  the  next  one. 

And  men  knew  more  then  than  they  used  to, 

Having  harpoons  to  kill  fish  with. 
And  they  had  also  little  bone  needles. 

Sewing  their  skin  clothes  together  nicely. 
And  they  had  tame  wolves  to  help  them  hunt, 

Running  after  the  game  very  quick. 
But  they  did  not  know  how  to  make  spears  jump, 

Except  by  throwing  them  with  their  hands. 

Now  Fye-wye,  Fing-wingng,  and  Fak-waq,  strong  tribes, 
Hated  each  other  worse  than  large  snakes, 


V.     Epic  of  the  Bow-spear.  in 

And  they  made  war  together  all  the  while, 

Except  when  they  were  too  tired. 
It  was  hard  to  catch  game  near  that  river, 

Although  wild  bulls  and  reindeer  were  plenty, 
For  they  ran  down  from  Fye-wye  to  Fing-wingng, 

Making  men  afraid  to  go  after  them, 
And  they  ran  from  Fing-wingng  clear  to  Fak-waq, 

So  that  Fing-wingng  hunters  could  not  catch  them. 
Men  feared  to  go  near  another  tribe, 

Unless  all  their  kith  went,  ready  for  war. 
And  things  would  have  staid  that  way  forever, 

If  something  had  not  come  and  happened. 

But  Lalapoo,  strong  chief  of  Fak-waq, 

Went  hunting  one  day  far  down  the  river. 
And  he  found  six  strange  men  hunting  there, 

He  spying  them  from  behind  the  tree-trunks. 
They  were  not  just  like  other  men, 

But  were  taller  and  had  more  hair  on  them, 
And  they  talked  like  blue  jays,  magpies,  and  owls, 

So  that  nobody  could  understand  them. 
And  no  one  ever  knew  where  they  came  from, 

Because  they  could  not  ask  them. 

Now  each  man  had  something  new  to  hunt  with, 

Better  than  all  the  spears  that  men  have. 
It  was  a  bow  of  wood,  like  the  new  moon, 

With  twisted  deer-skin  tied  between  the  ends. 
And  each  had  little  spears,  very  many, 

Such  as  men  call  bow-spears  now, 
Having  two  small  wings  on  their  backward  end, 

To  make  them  go  where  they  wanted  to. 


112  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

And  right  while  Lalapoo  stood  watching  them, 

They  spied  a  wild  bull  coming  that  way. 
And  they  put  bow-spears  on  the  bow-strings, 

Pulling  the  bows  round,  like  a  man's  face. 
And  when  they  let  go,  the  bow-spears  flew  fast, 

Three  times  as  far  as  a  spear  can  jump. 
They  climbed  right  up  as  they  flew  forward, 

And  then  slid  down  onto  the  bull's  back 
Crawling  into  his  flesh  very  deep, 

Making  him  a  dead  thing  right  away. 

Then  Lalapoo  fled  home,  very  much  scared, 

For  he  knew  he  could  not  fight  such  men. 
Two  times  ten  men  could  not  kill  those  six, 

For  they  could  not  get  close  enough  to  them. 
And  all  the  Fak-waq  men  were  much  scared,  too, 

When  their  chief  told  about  the  Bow-spearghy, 
(For  that  is  what  they  called  the  strange  men. 

Not  knowing  the  real  name  of  their  tribe). 
"My  men,"  said  Lalapoo,  "my  strong  warriors, 

Let  us  go  to  see  the  men  of  Fing-wingng. 
Perhaps  they  will  make  peace  with  us  now. 

Although  they  have  hated  us  forever. 
For  the  Bow-spearghy  will  be  bad  to  them, 

After  they  have  killed  all  of  us  first. 
But  if  we  can  all  fight  on  the  same  side. 

We  who  dwell  by  the  short  river, 
Perhaps  we  can  drive  the  Bow-spearghy  off, 

So  as  not  to  come  back  ever  again." 

So  these  tribes,  Fye-wye,  Fing-wingng,  and  Fak-waq, 
Made  peace,  although  they  did  not  want  to. 


V.     Epic  of  the  Bow-spear.  nj 

But  they  chose  to  quit  hating  each  other, 

Rather  than  let  the  Bow-spearghy  kill  them. 
For  they  all  were  scared  at  the  strange  men, 

Seeing  them  hunt  up  and  down  the  river. 
But  the  Bow-spearghy  men  went  off, 

When  the  three  tribes  made  war  upon  them, 
For  they  did  not  want  to  stay  and  fight  there, 

Having  their  women  and  homes  somewhere  else. 
They  had  small  fights  only  before  they  left, 

Killing  eight  men  with  their  bow-spears. 

Then  they  who  dwelt  by  the  short  river 

Had  a  good  time  all  winter  long. 
It  was  much  better  to  live  at  peace, 

If  they  had  only  known  it  before. 
They  kept  warm  in  their  big  holes  in  the  ground, 

When  the  sun  ran  off  and  made  it  cold, 
And  they  had  plenty  to  eat  in  their  holes, 

Because  they  hunted  the  big  game  in  peace. 

But  when  spring  came,  they  had  a  hard  time, 

For  the  Bow-spearghy  came  back  again, 
And  this  time  they  were  five  times  ten  men, 

Bringing  their  women  and  children  with  them  ; 
And  they  brought  all  the  things  that  they  had, 

Coming  slowly,  hunting  for  a  new  home. 

So  the  three  tribes  held  council  together, 

Being  worse  scared  than  small  lizards ; 
And  their  knees  under  them  were  like  dry  leaves, 

Shaking  when  the  wind  talks  to  them. 
"My  men,"  said  Lalapoo,  "and  ye  two  tribes, 

What  can  we  do  when  things  are  so  bad  ? 


1 1 £  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

If  we  stay  and  make  war  with  these  men, 

We  shall  all  die  before  the  moon  turns  round. 

And  if  we  run  off  from  the  river, 

Climbing  into  the  mountains  and  cliffs, 

It  will  be  hard  to  stay  alive  up  there, 
Because  there  is  not  much  to  eat." 

Then  spake  Ashang-soo,  great  chief  of  Fing-wingng, 

Holding  his  knees  close  together : 
"Ye  men  of  our  three  tribes, 

There  is  only  one  thing  for  us  to  do. 
Now  listen  to  me  well  with  your  ears, 

And  I  will  tell  you  all  about  it. 
Let  us  send  men  to  all  tribes  far  and  near, 

Asking  them  to  come  and  help  us. 
I  think  they  will  come  sore  gladly, 

Knowing  what  bad  men  the  Bow-spearghy  are. 
No  kith  can  live  safely  even  far  off, 

Unless  the  bow-spear  people  are  all  killed." 

Then  all  the  warriors  were  glad, 

Hearing  what  that  great  chief  said. 
But  Upeenafud  spake,  chief  of  Fye-wye, 

Not  being  quite  so  much  scared  as  the  rest . 
"Warriors,  let  us  ask  good  tribes  to  help  us, 

But  let  us  not  ask  any  bad  tribe. 
I  should  hate  to  have  to  be  friends  with  them, 

After  the  bow-spear  kith  is  all  killed. 
So  let  us  not  send  men  to  the  Hhop-wop, 

Because  they  kill  folks  after  they  make  peace, 
Nor  yet  to  the  tribe  of  Gang-goo, 

Who  do  not  do  things  the  way  men  should. 


V.      Epic  of  the  Boiv-spear. 

For  they  eat  toads  and  mice  and  grasshoppers, 

Which  are  not  good  game  for  people, 
And  their  men  wear  no  clothes  at  all 

When  the  sun  makes  the  summer  hot, 
But  their  women  wear  large  rabbit-skins, 

Which  only  men  ought  to  wear. 
But  come,  let  us  decide  quickly 

Where  each  man  shall  go  who  can  run  fast." 

So  it  pleased  all  three  kiths 

To  do  as  this  chief  had  told  them, 
And  they  sent  men  running  to  all  good  tribes, 

Asking  them  to  come,  even  from  far  off. 
They  went  to  Dalsop,  Voilee,  and  Star-tar, 

To  Fimfam,  Ketoitoi,  and  Wollipat. 
They  ran  to  Saap,  Voop,  and  Tarnikiq, 

Neewee  also,  Midwab,  and  Aloolkee, 
Even  reaching  Belang-wang  and  Oshangk, 

Though  these  were  dreadfully  far  off. 

And  warriors  came  gladly  from  all  these  tribes, 

Wanting  to  help  kill  the  bad  Bow-spearghy. 
Ten  times  ten  men  came  from  the  north  parts, 

And  nine  times  ten  men  from  the  south  parts, 
And  six  times  ten  men  lived  there  at  home, 

In  the  three  tribes  by  the  river. 
More  men  stood  where  they  could  see  each  other 

That  time  than  ever  in  the  world  before, 
And  never  again  since  that  great  clay 

Have  so  many  men  fought  in  one  place. 

So  the  Bow-spearghy  stood  on  one  side, 
And  all  the  good  men  on  the  other  side ; 


Ii6  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

And  they  fought  as  hard  as  two  great  lions, 

While  the  she-lion  stands  and  watches  them. 
All  day  long  those  tribes  tried  to  run  in  close, 

Dodging  hehind  trees  when  the  bow-spears  flew, 
And  all  day  long  the  strange  men  kept  them  off, 

Killing  many  of  them,  though  far  away. 
But  when  the  night  was  going  to  come  soon, 

They  got  together,  hand  against  hand. 
Then  the  Bow-spearghy  were  cut  to  pieces, 

Falling  dead  in  great  piles  of  men. 
The  tribes  stood  on  both  sides  of  them,  fighting, 

And  did  not  let  any  of  them  run  off. 
Each  great  tribe-chief  fought  and  killed  a  man, 

And  the  rest  of  the  warriors  killed  the  rest. 
But  there  were  only  enough  Bow-spearghy 

For  each  kith  to  kill  two  or  three  or  four. 

So  the  danger  to  the  great  north  world 

Was  over,  never  to  come  back  again. 
And  those  seven  and  ten  tribes  rested, 

Making  a  great  dance    of  joy  that  night. 
And  Upeenafud,  strong  chief  of  Fye-wye, 

Spoke  very  loud  for  them  all  to  hear : 
"O  men  of  all  these  tribe-nations, 

I  am  very  glad  to  talk  to  you, 
For  no  man  yet  has  had  a  chance  to  speak 

To  such  a  great  ant-hill  swarm  of  men. 
We  have  put  to  death  all  the  strange  warriors, 

But  some  of  their  old  men  will  get  away, 
And  many  women  and  children  also, 

Who  will  grow  up  sometime  into  bad  men. 
For  they  were  camping  two  days'  walk'  from  here, 

And  are  running  off  now,  fast  as  they  can. 


V.      Epic  of  the  Bow-spear.  nj 

And  we  cannot  run  after  them  yet, 

Tor  \ve  are  too  tired  and  too  glad, 
So  when  we  do  send  men  to  chase  them  down, 

Killing  them  as  fast  as  they  find  them, 
Many  of  them  will  keep  out  of  sight, 

Running  safely  far  off,  no  one  knows  where. 

"Xow  therefore  listen  to  my  good  talk, 

For  I  know  how  to  tell  the  best  thing. 
Let  each  tribe  find  the  men  that  they  have  killed, 

And  take  their  bows  and  bow-spears  home  with  them. 
Then  they  can  learn  how  to  shoot  with  them  well, 

And  how  to  make  other  bow-spears  like  them. 
This  will  be  a  good  thing  for  us  ail, 

Making  us  more  safe  than  we  were. 
And  when  the  children  of  these  bird-talkers 

Grow  up  big,  coming  back  to  fight  us, 
We  shall  not  be  scared  as  we  were  now, 

For  we  shall  all  be  bow-spearghy  men  then." 

So  this  speech  out  of  the  great  chief's  mouth 

Pleased  all  the  men  of  all  tribes, 
And  they  did  just  as  he  had  told  them, 

Picking  up  what  the  dead  men  had  dropped. 

And  some  of  the  young  men  ran  next  day, 

Killing  all  the  old  and  young  that  they  could, 

But  they  could  not  catch  near  all  of  them, 
Even  just  as  Upeenafud  had  said. 

But  Telzocq,  son  of  great  chief  Lalapoo, 

Brought  a  bird-talker  woman  home  with  him. 


ii 8  The   Twilight  of  the  Race. 

She  was  his  good  woman  many  years, 
Learning  at  last  to  talk  like  men. 

But  she  could  not  tell  where  they  had  come  from, 
For  it  was  too  dreadfully  far  off. 

All  these  things  happened  long  ago, 

When  our  old  men's  fathers  were  small  boys. 
And  all  men  are  bow-spear  people  now, 

Hunting  game  easier  than  they  used  to. 
And  they  do  not  make  war  quite  so  much, 

For  it  is  not  very  safe  to  fight  now, — 
A  bow-spear  can  kill  men  too  easily, 

So  they  have  to  have  peace  some  of  the  time. 


The  Galdraken's  Daughter. 


A  STORY  OF  TEMPTATION. 


"No  taint  of  sin  can  e'er  efface 
Heredity  from  God." 


The  Galdraken's  Daughter* 


A  STORY  OF  TEMPTATION. 


1. 


"  'Fie  on  the  witch  !     Fie  on  the  witch !' 

The  townsmen  cried  as  I  passed  them, 
But  fast  to  the  ground  mine  eyes 

Were  shamed  at  the  name, — he  beheld  me ! 
And  never  a  witch  am  I — God  help ! — 

Howe'er  thou  compel  me  to  feign  it !" 
Thus  did  the  maiden  speak 

To  the  galdraken  hag  in  her  anger. 

Three  score  years  and  three 

Were  the  years  of  the  life  of  the  woman; 
One  score  years  and  one 

Since  a  babe  had  lain  at  her  bosom. 
Yet  strangely  alike,  as  of  ill-timed  twins, 

Were  the  age-worn  face  and  the  maiden's. 
Each  black-haired,  black-eyed,  black-willed, 

With  a  vague  but  arrowy  beauty, 
Each  with  a  gleam  of  new-found  hope, 

Each  deep  graven  with  hatred, — 


122  The  Galdraken'  s  Daughter. 

Hate,  like  a  mill  of  the  demons, 

Mill  that  never  is  weary, 
Galling  the  heart,  grinding  slow, 

Rending  the  soul  forever ! 

"Mother,  if  such  thou  art, — " 

"Aha !  ha !  Gronsenhilda, 
A  silly  one  thou  to  doubt ! 

Twice  o'er  I  own  thee  as  mother! 
But  come  now,  girl,  and  obey  my  will, 

If  mother  or  witch  thou  esteem  me!" 
"Nay,  I  obey  thee  not, 

For  I  love  him  more  than  I  fear  thee, — 
I  deem  it  is  love,  not  spite, 

For  I  love  him  more  than  I  hate  thee !" 

Silence  again  was  theirs, 

As  hotly  she  turned  to  the  window, 
Silence  again,  but  it  spake 

What  dumb  words  never  can  utter. 
Fierce  for  a  time  was  the  hag. 

She  crouched  and  glared  at  the  younger, 
Mingling  fury  with  fear, 

Through  doubt  which   will   were  the   stronger. 
At  last  on  her  face  was  a  wearied  look. 

Heart-sick  at  all  she  was  plotting, 
"Woe  unto  me,"    she  thought. 

"For  vengeance  is  sore,  though  cherished. 
Yet  long  are  the  years  I  have  watched  for  this ! 

My  heart  is  gnawed  with  the  waiting. 
And  now  is  the  time !    I  naught  will  reck, 

Though  the  heart  of  the  girl  be  broken — 


A   Story  of  Temptation.  123 

Stay  !     I  once  was  a  girl ! 

But  no,  I  have  sworn,  I  have  sealed  it !" 


Then  she  arose  and  muttered, 

And  stepped  to  the  door  of  the  hovel, 
Opened,  and  looked  at  the  night, 

And  clenched  her  fist  to  her  bosom. 
Clothed  in  yellow  and  black 

She  stood,  a  statue  of  evil, 
Plotting  that  bygone  wrongs  might  live, 

And  innocent  lives  be  ruined. 

Shut  was  the  door  with  force; 

Intently  she  looked  at  the  daughter, 
Stepped  to  her  side  and  touched  her  arm, 

And  stood  for  a  moment  in  silence. 
"Gronsenhilda,  turn !" 

And  the  maiden  turned  to  confront  her. 
"This  is  the  hour,"  the  dame  went  on, 

"To  tell  thee  all  of  the  secret." 
"Tell,  oh !  tell,  for  I  listen !"  she  said, 

This  girl,  now  humble  and  eager, 
"Tell  not  a  part,  but  the  whole, 

For  I  live  my  life  in  the  darkness !" 
"Aha  !  fair  lady,  thou  fain  wouldst  know  ? 

Make  strong  thy  heart  to  receive  it." 
"Strong?     I  wait  for  the  truth,"  she  said, 

And  earnestly  looked  at  the  woman. 
"Ah  well,  'tis  a  story  of  wrong,  my  girl. 

Methinks  I'll  spare  thee  the  knowing, 
For  now  I  repent  to  have  spoken. 

'Twere  better  to  leave  it  in  silence." 


124-  The  Galdrakcrf  s  Daughter. 

"No,  no!  thou  hast  promised!"  the  maiden  cried; 

"I  see  thou'rt  smiling  and  mocking! 
Is  it  for  naught  thou  livest  a  witch 

In  the  eyes  of  them  thou  deceivest, — 
More  than  a  witch,  a  ruler  of  fate, — 

And  makest  a  trade  of  thy  falsehood? 
Is  it  for  naught  that  I  share  thy  shame, — 

And  the  shame  of  hating  a  mother? 
Wandering  town  to  town, 

Thou  makest  me  live  as  an  outcast, 
Tasting  of  life  but  the  dregs, 

And  now  I  have  loved, — oh,  Heaven ! 
Whence  thy  hate  of  the  stranger, 

To  bid  me  wed  and  desert  him, 
Crushing  his  heart — for  I  know  he  loves — 

And  add  such  sin  to  the  reckoning?" 

"Hold !  thou  art  hot,"  said  the  woman, 

"I  jested,  refusing  to  tell  thee, 
For  now  is  the  time  to  reveal  the  whole. 

Make  strong  thy  heart  to  receive  it!" 
"Speak  !"  said  the  girl,  and  faced  her  erect, 

With  the  scorn  of  her  passion  upon  her. 

"Well,  'tis  a  story  of  wrong, 

Of  wrong  unto  thee,  my  daughter. 
Before  thy  birth  thy  life  was  accursed, 

Through  fault  of  a  woman,  my  rival. 
Wandering  town  to  town, 

Her  fault,  thou  livest  an  outcast, 
Tasting  of  life  but  the  dregs. 

And  now  is  the  time  to  avenge  thee ! 


'Speak!'   said  the  girl.' 

125 


A   Story  of  Temptation.  12? 

Where?     She  is  dead  long  since, 

But  one  of  her  blood  still  liveth, 
Heir  to  her  fortune  and  face, 

And  heir  to  the  hate  that  I  swore  her. 
Be  thou  iron  at  heart ! 

Her  soul  in  the  grave  would  triumph 
If  now  I  should  fail  of  aught  that  I  swore. 

But  I  will  not, — thou  wilt  obey  me! 
Yea,  'tis  well  thou  art  angry ; 

Be  wroth  and  list  to  the  story." 

Paused  for  a  moment  the  hag, 

And  then,  speaking  low,  she  continued: 
"I  was  a  girl  long  since, 

The  belle  of  a  wild-tribe  village. 
There  my  mother  had  lived  and  died, 

And  he  left  me,  a  child  among  kindred, 
Better  in  thought  and  hope  than  they ; 

My  father  was  born  as  a  Christian. 
Thither  he  came  in  his  youth. 

My  mother  was  fair,  and  he  took  her. 
But  he,  too,  perished ;  the  years  flew  past, 

And  womanhood  came  to  the  orphan. 
Then  sweet  were  the  joys  of  the  tribal  life; 

I  walked  as  a  queen  in  the  village ; 
Yet  ever  my  heart  was  sundered  in  twain, 

The  wild  with  the  tame  contending. 
And  then  one  morning  a  stranger  came, 

To  his  home  from  a  far  place  wending. 
Blue  were  the  eyes,  yellow  the  hair. 

To  see  him  once  was  to  mark  him. 
Sweet  the  spirit  that  looked  from  the  eyes. 

To  see  him  twice  was  to  love  him ! 


128  The  Galdrakeris  Daughter. 

Pausing  he  stood  at  the  door  of  the  tent 

Where  I  was  a-sitting  and  musing, 
Asked  for  the  road  to  the  northern  town, 

And  started  along  on  his  journey. 
'Nay,  why  hasten  ?'  I  said, 

'Be  welcome  awhile  in  the  village.' 
'Well,  it  is  summer/  quoth  he, 

And  seated  him  there  as  I  bade  him. 

''Daughter,  behold  my  face ! 

Tis  thine,  save  aged  and  withered. 
Girl,  thou'rt  witchingly  fair! 

The  stranger  was  held  by  a  magic, 
And  I  was  aflame  with  a  lifting  thought, — 

I  had  played  with  the  swains  of  the  village, 
But  now  was  I  crossing  the  borders  of  love. 

And  longed  to  be  worthy  for  his  sake. 

"We  talked  till  the  day  sank  low. 

We  parted ;  I  wept  till  the  morning. 
I  calmed  with  the  dawning,  but  grieved  all  day, 

And  fled  with  the  night  from  the  village. 
He  lived  in  the  northern  town, 

And  there  in  a  chapel  I  found  him 
Teaching  the  organ  to  pray. 

I  listened,  and  oh !  how  I  loved  him ! 
He  flushed  to  espie  me,  and  thought  of  that  eve, 

And  ere  one  moon  had  departed 
He  came  to  the  wooing.     But  she  was  enraged, 

And  vowed — ah  !  the  lie ! — that  she  loved  him. 
She  stole  to  his  heart,  she  stole  him  away, 

She  stole  widow  weeds  to  her  bosom  ! 


A   Story  of  Temptation. 

For  I — me  fool ! — believed  she  had  love. 

I  lifted  the  dagger  and  slew  him ! 
God !  that  I  did  it !     All  pangs  of  my  life 

Seem  pleasure  save  this, — but  I  did  it ! 
I  thought  that  she  loved  him  as  I  knew  love, 

And  I  lived  many  years  on  the  vengeance, 
Merry,  heart-broken,  and  proud. 

For  I  thought  she  had  reaped  of  her  sowing, 
She,  a  woman,  who  knew  I  was  mother, 

And  yet  had  the  heart  to  defraud  me ! 

''Alas !     I  had  failed  as  hell  must  fail, 

For  the  wound  healed  o'er  that  I  dealt  her. 
I  found  her  again.     She  was  nursing  a  babe, 

And  loving  another  as  husband. 
Failed  !     She  had  conquered  at  last ! 

I  cried  in  memory's  anguish, 
Cried,  'Let  others  forgive!' 

For  the  demon  within  me  had  mastered, 
Mastered  forever  if  need  be. 

Her  seed  shall  learn  of  the  meaning! 
Twice  have  I  proved  man  mortal 

With  steel  in  this  hand — ha !  seest  ? 
And  now  will  I  prove  if  a  heart  may  die, 

And  thou  art  the  steel  that  shall  pierce  it ! 
Hers  was  a  boy  that  she  loved ; 

I  bade  her  to  fear  for  his  future ! 
Mine  was  a  son,  but  a  girl  I  must  use, — 

And  so  thou  wast  born  for  the  weapon ! 
The  blood  of  my  lover  is  in  thee,  girl, 

Although  I  am  damned  to  have  borne  thee ! 
My  sin  passed  measure !     It  could  not  fail ! 


ijo  The  Galdrakcn  s  Daughter. 

Tis  fate !     Her  son's  in  our  power ! — 
Stand!  faint  not,  O  girl, 

But  hear  to  the  end  of  my  saying ! 
Gronsenhilda,  obey  me  a  year, 

And  I  free  thee  fore'er  of  thy  bondage ! 
Girl !" — But  the  form  had  fallen  ; 

The  witch  knelt  down  all  a-trembling, 
Close  by  the  side  of  the  prostrate  child, 

And  loosened  the  garment  that  choked  her, 
Muttering  still  strange  things, 

Unlawful  for  any  to  utter. 


II. 


At  last  unto  life — what  a  life ! — 

The  daughter  returned.     They  parted 
Each  to  a  rag-covered  couch, 

With  the  dread  of  the  morrow  upon  her. 
Midnight  turned  in  the  sky. 

The  stars  beat  down  on  the  hovel, 
Peering  through  crannies  and  chinks 

At  the  cot  where  the  maiden  was  sleeping 
The  long,  heavy  slumber  of  sorrow. 

At  last  in  the  gray  of  the  morning- 
She  woke,  and  remembered  the  hour 

She  had  promised  to  meet  with  her  lover, 
Early,  or  e'er  the  town  should  awake 

To  spy  and  to  sneer  at  the  couple. 

Soft  as  a  thought  she  arose, 

And  picked  out  the  best  of  her  garments, 


A   Story  of  Temptation. 

Tattered  and  worn,  but  dear  to  his  eyes, 

For  wearing  them  first  she  had  kissed  him. 
Silent    she  stole  from  the  hut, 

And  crept  like  a  guilty  one  town-ward, 
Drenching  her  feet  with  the  dew, 

And  shunning  the  light  of  the  morning. 
Saddest  thought  in  the  wide,  wide  world 

Her  half-dazed  spirit  was  musing, 
Even  how  short  the  infinite  step 

From  love  to  forgetting  or  hating. 
The  lightning  had  stricken  her  heart, 

And  left  it  a  corpse  to  all  feeling. 
"Sure  I  must  flee,"  she  sighed; 

"If  ever  I  wake,  I  shall  love  him." 

Quickly  she  sped  to  the  grove, 

And  there  'neath  the  willow  she  found  him, 
And  gave  him  the  kiss  he  awaited. 

It  glowed  with  a  spark  of  emotion, 
Yet  not  as  the  parting  the  mom  before, 

When  lips  had  warmed  to  a  crimson. 
"Why  are  we  here,  my  Harold," 

She  solemnly  said  as  he  held  her, 
"Acting  as  though  'twere  a  shame 

To  stand  so  together  as  lovers? 
Why  do  we  meet  by  theft  in  the  woods, 

And  not    hand  in  hand  at  the  altar?" 
"Alary,  for  thus  will  I  say, 

Forgetting   thy  name   un-christian, 
Alary,"  he  said,  "speak  on, 

For  I  see  thy  spirit  is  troubled." 
"Yea,  I  am  sad,  for  this  last  time 


IJ2  The  Galdrakciis  DaugJiter. 

Do  we  meet  as  lovers  together, 
Or  else  must  flee.     Say !  lovest  me  yet  ? 

Thy  touch  !     'Tis  true  thou  wilt  follow  !" 
"Mary,  what  flight?"  he  cried. 

She  answered  him  not  till  he  wondered. 
"Mary,  and  why  art  thou  silent?" 

He  saw  not  the  truth  of  her  nature 
Revolt,  as  she  fashioned  a  lie 

For  the  desperate  need  of  the  moment. 

"Harold,  the  news  is  sad, 

For  I  think  of  the  home  thou  forsakest. 
Here  thou  hast  purchased  a  spot, 

And  the  people  are  kind  to  thee — leave  me ! 
Go  thy  way,  1  mine — 

Ah!  lovest  me  yet?     Then  listen. 
She,  that  hag  of  the  woods, 

Who  stole  me,  guarded  the  secret. 
Called  me  her  own,  reared  me  in  shame, 

Made  me  a  slave  for  the  lucre, 
She,  that  peddler  of  fate, 

Is  fled  far  away  to  the  southward ! 
They  of  Arantisburg 

Are  tracing  her  out  to  destroy  her, 
Charging  a  crime  most  vile, 

The  theft  of  a  babe  and  a  treasure. 
Soon  they  will  come  this  way, 

And  slay  me,  too,  as  accomplice, 
Giving  thee  shame  to  have  known  me. 

Defend  me?     Turn  them  to  reason? 
Nay,  doth  a  mob  have  ears  ? 

Tis  hard  to  disprove  I  am  guilty. 


A   Story  of  Temptation. 

Go,  sell  quickly  the  land, 

And  meet  me  at  eve  at  the  Tye-spring. 
Miles   three   hundred   away, 

By  the  sea-shore,  close  to  the  city, 
There  we  shall  dwell  most  safe, 

And  there  is  the  place  of  thy  boyhood. 
There,  not  here,  is  our  home. 

Go,  haste,  for  the  hours  have  shortened." 

And  so  she  lied,  yet  scarce  did  sin. 

For  the  life  was  turned  from  its  channel ; 

And  so  she  lied,  when  the  naked  truth 

Would  have  swept  much  pain  from  the  future. 

"Mary,  my  woodland  love, 

I  hasten  at  once  at  thy  bidding, 
For  I'm  but  a  stranger  here, 

And  gladly  will  turn  to  the  home-land. 
'Tis  better  for  thee,  too,  clear, 

To  go  far  hence  from  the  hag-life, 
Better  than  here  to  abide, 

Where  many  will  scoff  at  the  wedding, 
And  thoughts  of  thy  stolen  youth 

Will  come  to  thee  ever    and  ever. 
Go;  I'll  haste  to  the  town, 

And  meet  thee  at  eve  at  the  Tye-spring." 

Thus  they  parted.     The  livelong  day 
She  skulked  all  alone  in  the  thicket. 

Fearing  the  fall  of  a  leaf, 

For  dread  'twere  the  step  of  her  mother. 

A  veil  was  over  her  thoughts, 
And  a  veil  shall  cover  the  story. 


The  Galdraketfs  Daughter. 


Meanwhile  there  in  the  town, 

Believing  the  tale  she  had  told  him, 
Quickly  he  sought  for  a  buyer, 

And  deeded  the  ground  for  a  pittance, 
Making  excuses  vain 

For  going  at  once  from  the  country, 
Dreading  arrest  for  he  knew  not  what, 

And  praying  for  night  and  the  forest. 

Eve  came.    Straight  to  the  woods 

He  stole  with  heavy  misgiving 
To  do  even  right  as  a  thief, 

But  the  die  was  cast,  and  he  hasted. 
Scarce  had  he  entered  the  road 

When  an  unknown  form  in  the  darkness, 
Hunting  with  gasping  step 

For  one  she  had  lost  in  the  morning, 
Neared  him.     Knowing  her  not, 

Yet  dreading  to  meet  any,  quickly 
Turned  he  aside,  paused  in  the  brush, 

And  passed  unseen  on  his  journey, 
Thinking  of  her  at  the  spring 

Till  the  warm  love  rushed  to  his  bosom. 
"Come,  let  us  go,"  were  his  words, 

As  he  found  her  standing  and  waiting, 
Who  quickened  to  joy  at  his  coming. 

One  moment  they  paused,  then  started 
Out  through  the  weary  night, 

With  one  thought  only  between  them,  — 
Hope,  that  lay  in  the  path  before, 

And  naught  but  forgetting  behind  them. 


'Unseen  in  the  twilight.' 
135 


A   Story  of  Temptation. 

This  man  was  a  man  of  home, 

But  he  fled  that  night  in  the  wildwood, 
Yea,  and  a  man  of  peace, 

Making  war  on  the  world's  conventions, 
Yea,  and  a  man  of  thought, 

Yet  he  plunged  in  the  deed  unthinking; 
For  tender  and  lone  his  orphan  heart, 

Scarce  knowing  one  maid  from  another, 
And  ardent  and  young  was  the  love 

That  rapt  him  along  to  the  action. 
Happy  for  him  if  the  heart  prove  right 

That  he  knew  so  little  and  loved  so ! 

Day  came,  night  came.     "Here  do  we  rest ; 

This  hamlet,"  said  he,  "is  a  shelter." 
"Yond  is  a  church,"  quoth  she. 

That  night  they  stood  at  the  altar. 

Wait.     One  month  is  elapsed. 

Look  now  at  the  door  of  a  cottage 
That  stands  in  the  face  of  a  grove. 

Far  off  is  the  blue  of  the  ocean; 
Southward  domes  of  a  city  arise, 

And  north,  the  green  of  a  mountain. 
Now  they  are  bidding  good  bye ; 

He  goes  to  his  work  in  the  suburb, 
And  she  to  the  household  toil 

For  which  she  has  ne'er  had  a  training. 

Weeks  pass  on  into  months ; 

Full  many  the  smiles  in  the  morning, 
And  many  the  kisses  at  eve ; 

And  many  the  tears  at  the  midnight ! 


8  The  Galdraketi  s  Daughter, 

Love  is  king  in  his  heart, 

And  love  is  queen  in  her  bosom. 
But  lo !  those  lions  that  couch  between, 

The  different  birth  and  the  secret ! 
Yea,  and  the  dread  of  the  unknown  thing 

That  the  absent  hag  is  achieving! 
Oft  he  looks  in  her  eyes, 

And  thinks  he  will  ask  for  the  secret ; 
Oft  she  prays  for  the  courage  to  speak, 

But  all  she  can  do  is  to  kiss  him ! 
Oft  she  mused  to  herself, 

As  she  waited  alone  at  the  noonday: 
"I  am  a  child  of  hell, 

And  a  grandchild  sprung  of  the  forest ! 
How  can  I  hope  to  be  tame, 

Though  ever  since  born  I  revolted, 
Through  some  heavenly  spark  within, 

From  the  hovel-bred  life  I  was  leading? 
I  am  a  wild-born  thing, 

And  the  wildness  quivers  within  me! 
One  thing  only  could  tame  my  thoughts, 

To  know  that  he  knew  of  the  birth-curse,- 
Knew  and  forgave, — and  the  hag  that  bore 

Were  laid  in  the  sepulchre  sleeping !" 

Then  as  she  turned  to  the  work 

She  nursed  her  a  smile  for  the  evening. 
"He  shall  be  happy  awhile,"  she  thought, 

And  welcomed  him  home  for  the  supper. 
And  so  that  night,  as  many  a  night, 

Their  love  grew  warm  in  the  lamplight, — 
Passion,  for  peace  stood  lonely  without, 

And  sadly  knocked  at  the  doorway ! 


A   Story  of  Temptation. 

III. 

This  is  a  beech-wood  tree 

That  shaded  the  sports  of  the  children 
Who  afterward  went  to  the  great  crusade, 

And  came  no  more  to  the  shelter. 
Then  they  could  clasp  it  around, 

And  climb  like  bears  to  the  branches ; 
Now  it  is  great  and  hollow  with  age, 

A  crumbling  king  in  the  forest. 
In  it  from  summery  showers 

Have  travelers  oft  taken  refuge ; 
In  it  the  wolf  has  lain, 

And  suckled  its  young  in  the  springtime; 
In  it  have  lovers  kissed, 

Who  thought  stolen  waters  the  sweetest ; 
In  it  a  hermit  has  dwelt  for  years, 

While  starving  his  soul  with  his  body ; 
In  it  the  brigand  has  crouched, 

To  seize  on  the  innocent  passer; 
In  it  have  children,  lost  in  play, 

Cried  all  night  through  for  their  mother. 

But  never  a  heart  so  strange, 

And  never  a  body  so  weary, 
And  never  a  will  so  strong  has  it  seen 

As  hers  who  within  it  is  sleeping, 
Barefoot  grown  with  many  a  mile, 

And  tattered  with  many  a  briar, 
Old  in  body,  and  older  in  soul, 

Grown  lean  with  vampire  hatred, — 
Hate,  like  a  mill  of  the  demons, 

Mill  that  never  is  weary, 


The  Galdrakerf  s  Daughter. 

Galling  the  heart,  grinding  low, 
Ghouling  the  soul  forever! 


Tis  hers  to  have  tasted  in  bitter  extreme 

The  fires  of  earth's  purgatory, 
Cleansing  the  flinty  will  with  time, 

The  remorse  with  failure  in  sinning, 
Cleansing  the  heart  by  starving  it  sore, 

And  leaving  the  life  but  a  shadow  ! 
One  thing  only  remains 

That  holds  her  purpose  to  hell-ward, 
Hope  in  sin,  for  a  hope  still  grows, 

That  fate's  dry  wind  never  withers. 
And  yet  she  was  born  for  a  woman, 

And  loathes  her  life  of  a  bloodhound, 
Hating  because  she  has  sworn, 

Enduring  because  she  is  mighty. 

Peace!  let  her  rest  for  an  hour. 

Too  soon  her  fire  will  awake  her. 
That  is  the  face  of  her  youth, 

Half  hid  by  the  scars  of  a  life-war. 
That  is  a  poise  of  repose. 

All  changes  when  she  awakens. 

She  moves!  and  her  face  is  drawn 

Till  the  wrinkles  change  to  a  tightness, 
And  then  turn  wrinkles  again 

With  a  deep,  dark,  sinister  shading. 
Look  !  her  eyes  are  enlarged, 

And  glare,  as  she  rises  and  travels, 
Like  to  a  wildcat,  watching  her  prey, 

Watching  and  never  relenting,  — 


A   Story  of  Temptation. 

Glare,  then  change  to  a  faded  ache, 
As  weariness  comes  with  the  journey. 

"I  shall  be  lost,"  she  sighs. 

''Twelve  months  I  have  hunted  and  wandered! 
One  month  more  will  lead  to  the  grave, 

And  I  shall  have  failed  of  the  death-price, 
Even  the  triumph  I  swore  to  attain 

Through  giving  my  life  unto  evil. 
Oh,  for  a  haven  to  turn, 

And  repent  of  the  deed  I  am  doing! 
But  no!  the  gate  of  a  godly  life 

Is  barred  with  steel  from  the  sinner! 
I  shall  have  spent  my  soul, 

But  I  will  not  spend  it  for  nothing! 
Strength  remaineth  for  two  months  more 

Of  searching !     Sure  I  shall  find  her, 
Master  her  mind,  draw  her  to  flight, 

Leave  him  alone — ruined  ! 
Yea,  'tis  well  she  has  waited, 

Nor  fled  at  the  hour  of  the  wedding. 
Haply  a  child  is  born 

To  pluck,  when  lost,  at  his  heart-strings ! 
What  though  he  found  some  joy 

In  the  year  departed  and  buried? 
Did  Satan  give  apples  in  love 

To  the  mother  of  men  in  the  garden  ? 

"Then  will  I  rest;  I  am  weary, 

Weary  of  all  things  human! 
Hark!     I  hear  as  it  were 

The  voice  of  the  daughter  in  anguish, 


14.2  The  Galdrakcns  Daughter. 

After  I  pass  to  the  grave, 

The  mother  who  once  might  have  loved  her, 
After  the  husband  knows  she  is  false, 

And  all  men  join  to  despise  her! 
God!  is  it  this  I  am  doing, 

To  make  her  me  in  the  future  ? 
Weary  limbs  will  lead  me  to  chase 

Whatever  my  heart  might  bid  them! 
Poison  lips  will  lure  her  to  sin, 

Though  hell  should  stand  and  forbid  it! 
What!     I'm  mad  that  I  whimper; 

I'm  glad  of  the  day  of  her  trouble ! 
Never  in  life  she  obeyed  my  will, 

But  this  last  time  she  will  do  it!" 

Spake  she,  hag  most  piteous. 

Weary  she  fell  into  silence, 
Murmuring  things  that  the  woods  heard  not, 

But  the  face  grew  hard  as  an  arrow. 
Many  the  towns  she  had  tramped  in  vain, 

And  probed  with  the  eye  their  windows ; 
Many  the  queries  she  put  to  the  folk, 

And  left  them  gaping  behind  her, 
Yet  never  a  word  of  the  girl  she  heard, 

And  never  a  trace  of  the  husband. 

But  now  the  hour  was  come, 

Though  far  from  the  home  by  the  sea-shore, 
For  there  in  the  grove  she  espied  him, 

The  man  she  had  hunted  and  hated, 
Faring  a  far  off  journey, 

And  thinking  of  Mary  behind  him. 


'And  left  them  Caning  behind  her. 
143 


A   Story  of  Temptation. 

"Ha,  there!  child  of  thy  mother! 

Harold !     Halt,  for  I  call  thee !" 
Startled  he  looked  at  the  face 

That  once  seen  never  would  leave  him; 
It  seemed  like  the  face  of  his  wife 

Grown  old  in  a  night  and  accursed. 

"Woman,  alas!  for  I  know  thee, 

Albeit  I  never  have  seen  thee!" 
"Tell  me,  what  of  thy  home?"  she  cried. 

He  begged  with  his  eyes,  and  was  silent. 
"Tell  me,  what  of  thy  home?" 

"I  love  her !"  was  all  he  could  answer. 
"Tell  me,  what  of  thy  home !" 

His  voice  grew  weak  as  he  murmured, 
"Oh,  I  thought  thou  stolest  the  girl ! 

I  thought  she  spake  to  me  truly!" 
"Tell  me !  wouldest  thou  know 

Of  aught  that  her  lips  never  uttered?" 
"Oh !"  he  cried  with  a  piteous  look, 

As  a  dog  that  fawns  on  its  master. 
"Hast  thou,  Harold,  the  heart 

To  endure  the  tale  I  will  tell  thee?" 
"Why!  What  tale?"  were  his  words, 

But  his  eyes  laid  hold  of  her  meaning. 
"Thy  visage  is  wine  to  my  veins !"  she  cried. 

"I  am  eating  the  ghost  of  thy  mother! 
Hast  thou  a  craving  to  hear?" 

He  faltered  before  he  made  answer, 
"  'Tis  better  that  she  who  loves  me  tell  it, 

If  aught  I  should  know  lieth  hidden." 
"Loves  thee !     Where  are  thy  wits, 

If  thou  thinkest  my  daughter  will  tell  thee, 


146  The  Galdrakeri  s  Dauglitcr. 

Before  her  hand  she  has  wrenched  from  thine, 
And  left  thee  alone  to  thy  sorrow !" 

Bewildered  he  stood,  and  the  moment  had  come 

To  snatch  from  his  fingers  the  paper 
That  long  she  had  eyed,  a  letter  unsealed. 

The  writing  was  that  of  her  daughter. 
Bearing  the  date  and  address. 

She  kissed  it  as  though  'twere  an  idol. 
"What  art  thou  doing!"  he  cried, 

As  strength  returned  for  a  moment ; 
"Woman,  give  hither  the  letter, 

And  know  thy  place  in  the  future !" 
"Take  it !"     She  scornfully  tossed  it  over. 

"  'Tis  naught  to  me  now  but  a  plaything! 
And  wilt  thou  none  of  my  story? 

Away,  and  follow  thy  journey, 
And  never  unravel  the  tale  of  thy  birth 

And  of  hers  who  seemeth  to  love  thee ! 
Drink  thy  cup  in  the  dark, 

For  I  deem  thou'lt  never  believe  me !" 
"What !  thou  visage  of  ill,"  he  gasped, 

"Turn  back,  although  I  deplore  thee ! 
Although  I  believe  thee  little, 

My  soul  doth  itch  for  the  story !" 
And  then  she  was  ready  to  speak, 

Having  charmed  her  prey  like  a  serpent, 
Coiling  nearer  and  nearer  his  heart, 

And  quaffing  revenge  in  his  anguish. 
All  the  story  of  youth, 

Meeting  and  loving  and  losing, 
All  the  story  of  sin, 

The  murder,  the  hatred,  the  incest, 


A    Story  of  Temptation. 

All  the  plot  for  his  ruin  she  told, 

Calmly,  fully,  and  slowly. 
"Lo,  I  have  ended!"  she  said. 

"The  daughter  did  fancy  thee  truly, 
And  fled  to  avoid  my  decree, 

But  now  she  has  learned  to  distaste  thee. 
Make  no  haste  to  thy  home ; 

Little  joy  awaits  thy  returning!" 

Saying,  she  leaped  from  the  path, 

And  quickly  was  lost  in  the  bushes, 
Leaving  the  man  to  loiter  amazed, 

Unsettled  and  doubting  his  senses, 
Yet  quiet  and  calm,  for  like  as  a  stone 

Will  sink  when  tossed  in  the  water, 
But  glances,  driven  with  force, 

Her  blow  had  missed  of  its  purpose. 
"This  is  too  fearful  a  thing  to  be  true," 

Was  all  of  his  thought  for  a  moment. 

And  yet  that  danger  he  dared  not  fear 
Was  nearing  his  wife  like  a  panther. 

Haste  thee,  man,  to  thy  home, 
And  let  none  evil  outrun  thee! 


IV. 

The  cottage  was  open  at  eve 

To  look  at  the  glow  of  the  twilight. 

Mary  was  sitting  and  crooning  the  babe, 
And  a  neighbor  standing  beside  her, 

The  motherly  dame  of  the  nearest  home, 
A  furlong  nigher  the  city. 


148  The  Galdrakeris  Daughter. 

"Mary,  good  neighbor,"  she  said, 

When  done  with  trivial  matters, 
"A  thing  most  curious  Richard  relates 

From  Dennburg,  when  he  was  trading. 
A  woman  gone  mad  and  staring  at  men 

He  met  on  the  streets  of  the  village, 
And  yet,  as  he  stoutly  affirms, 

With  a  likeness  for  thee,  pleasant  neighbor. 
'Tis  odd,  this  likeness  of  strangers," 

She  said,  and  smiled  at  her  story. 
"Odd,  to  be  sure,"  said  Mary, 

Grown  pale  unobserved  in  the  twilight ; 
"A  thing  quite  similar  comes  to  me  now 

Of  the  pussy  we  keep  for  a  mouser. 
Her  tail's  cut  short,  and  the  left  ear's  black, 

But  the  right  one  white  as  her  body ; 
And  once  this  fall  on  the  skirts  of  the  city 

I  met  with  a  kitten  just  like  her!" 

They  laughed,  and  Mary  went  on, 

"Good  neighbor,  let's  walk  on  the  sea-shore. 
This  boy  has  fallen  asleep. 

All  day  I  have  kept  to  the  cottage." 
She  laid  him  to  rest  in  the  cradle, 

And  wandered  along  to  the  water, 
Speaking  of  things  in  a  pensive  way, 

In  accord  with  the  shimmering  landscape. 

"Good  night,"  at  the  last  they  said, 
But  Mary  returned  to  the  ocean, 

Pouring  her  heart  to  the  waves, 

And  dreading  no  ear  in  the  darkness. 


A   Story  of  Temptation. 

"My  mother  gone  wild  with  the  search ! 

I  thought,  once  fled,  to  elude  her, — 
Chasing  a  bubble  of  love 

That  I  dare  not  touch  with  the  finger ! 
Oh,  my  words !  my  words  ! 

That  I  dare  not  say  to  my  husband ! 
Why  does  he  tarry  so  long  ? 

He  thought  to  return  in  a  fortnight. 
Why  does  he  leave  me  alone  ? 

Perchance  he  is  happier  yonder! 
For  I'm  but  a  restive,  wild-born  thing; 

He's  weary  of  trying  to  tame  me, 
Trying  to  cage  me  rather, 

And  teach  me  to  sing  for  his  pleasure! 
Oh,  I'm  lonely  to  death, 

And  no  heart  knows  I  am  lonely ! 
Why  am  I  thus  ?    Ah  me ! 

His  mother,  alas,  was  the  reason ! 
Save  for  her  I  had  never  drawn  breath, 

And  would  I  had  never,  never!" 

She  wandered  and  looked  at  the  waves ; 

She  turned  and  looked  at  the  forest, 
Started  for  home,  and  loitered  again, 

And  turned  once  more  to  the  water. 
A  horror  she  knew  not  whence 

Had  crept  and  gathered  around  her. 
'Twas  only  a  toad  that  leaped ; 

She  cowered  as  though  'twere  a  serpent. 
A  leaf  fell,  touching  her  hand ; 

She  quivered  as  though  'twere  an  arrow. 
Yonder,  lo !  in  the  path 

The  eyes  of  a  woman  were  on  her. 


The  Galdrakcn  s  Daughter. 

Like  to  a  tiger  ready  to  spring, 

And  lashing  the  ground  as  it  waited. 

"Gronscnhilda,  joy  be  thine! 

I've  heard  those  words  thou  hast  uttered  ! 
Thy  bubble  of  love  is  broken  at  last ! 

Our  hearts  are  as  one  forever ! 
Merry  and  good  is  the  life  we'll  lead, 

When  done  is  the  life-long  vengeance ! 
We  shall  return  to  the  dwellings  of  men, 

And  wander  never  in  sadness ! 
Just  one  hour,  one,  my  girl, 

Be  flinty  of  will,  and  assist  me ! 
Come !  lead  on  to  his  home, 

And  make  it  a  cry  and  a  hissing!" 

Her  power  of  mind  drew  hard 

With  cords  spun  strong  through  a  lifetime. 
They  started.    Dark  was  the  night, 

And  clouds  grew  denser  above  them. 
They  stumbled  o'er  weeds  in  the  path, 

And  tore  their  skirts  on  the  briar. 
Hearts  beat  heavy  and  fast, 

And  breath  came  short  like  a  runner's. 

"Tell  me,  mother,  I  pray ! 

What  of  the  babe  in  the  cradle  ?" 
"Babe  ?    Thou  lovest  it  not ! 

Tis  born  the  pledge  of  a  falsehood ! 
Half  is  the  father's  share; 

Leave  half  of  the  corpse  at  the  doorway !" 
"Nay,  but  give  me  the  child 

To  suckle  and  rear  unto  manhood ! 


A   Story  of  Temptation,  151 

Woe  unto  me !  and  woe ! 

And  where  shall  I  turn  for  a  refuge — " 
''Hush !  my  daughter,  and  hush  ! 

I  give  thee  the  life  of  the  infant." 

Still  they  hasted  along, 

But  only  a  moment  in  silence. 
"Tell  me,  mother,  if  true, 

That  horror  thy  lips  once  uttered !" 
"Daughter,  if  such  thy  heart 

That,  being  it  true,  thou  avenge  it, 
Then  it  is  true ;  if  other  thy  heart, 

I'll  lie,  and  say  it  was  falsehood! 
Speed !    Thy  frenzy  is  precious ! 

I'll  share  thee  the  joy  of  the  triumph ! 
Speed  !  for  the  time  is  short,  too  short, 

And  now  we  are  hot  for  the  doing !" 
"Why  too  short,  my  mother  ? 

Dost  think  he  is  nigh  to  returning?" 
"Haste!     I  only  will  cry,  make  haste! 

This  hour  is  fate's  own  birthday !" 

Gasping  still  they  struggled  along ; 

Their  eyes  were  hid  in  the  darkness, 
And  only  the  breath  betokened  the  pain, 

The  tread,  their  desperate  frenzy. 

Look !  for  here  is  the  bend  of  the  road, 

And  yonder  the  path  to  the  cottage. 
"See !  'tis  the  light  in  the  window  !" 

The  wild  wife,  trembling,  remem'bring, 
"See  !  'tis  the  light  in  the  window  !"  cried, 

"His  light,  too  soon  to  be  darkened !" 


1 52  The  Galdraketis  Daughter. 

"Hush !  say  naught  of  the  light ! 

Come  on,  my  child,  I  am  with  thee! 
What!    Thou'rt  fallen ?    Arise!" 

She  seized  and  lifted  the  younger, 
Who  fled  as  a  deer  from  the  hounds, 

Outrunning  the  hag  to  the  doorway. 
"O  God !  or  never  give  help!"  she  cried, 

Leaped  in,  and  bolted  the  entrance. 
"Traitor!"  the  outside  darkness  wailed, 

But  panels  of  oak  were  between  them ! 

Oh,  that  night,  that  night ! 

'Twas  a  hinge,  and  life  turned  upon  it ! 
"Awake,  my  baby,  and  listen ! 

Be  old  for  an  hour  to  console  me ! 
1  am  alone  and  weary, 

And  trembling  seizeth  upon  me ! 
But  oh,  I  have  broken  the  meshes  of  fate ! 

The  spider  no  more  shall  entrap  me ! 
Nay,  my  babe,  thou  art  young ; 

Come  hither  and  feed  from  my  bosom ! 
Mother  doth  love  thee,  baby  of  mine, 

And  father  shall  know  that  I  love  thee !" 

Oh,  but  the  night  grew  long, 

And  horror  was  nigh  in  the  darkness ! 
Something  rattled  the  door ; 

The  young  wife  started  in  terror, 
Found  her  a  knife  and  waited 

To  die  in  defence  of  the  hearth-stone. 
Something  peered  at  the  window, 

And  stood  half  seen  in  the  lamplight, 


'See  !  'tis  the  light  in  the  window !  " 

153 


A   Story  of  Temptation. 

Hollow  as  eyes  of  a  mask 

Cast  off  and  hung  in  a  graveyard ! 
Something  stepped  on  the  walk, 

And  rustled  the  boughs  of  the  cedar, 
Something  hissed  in  the  chimney, 

And  scattered  the  soot  and  the  ashes ! 
Something  wailed  far  off  in  the  night, 

Like  hell's  troops  gathering  slowly ! 
"Give  me  the  morn !"  she  prayed, 

"Or  give  me  tears  to  relieve  me! 
The  night  is  killing  my  reason — 

Hush!  my  heart,  be  quiet, 
For  evil  lias  come  and  fired  its  darts, 

And  flees  with  the  quiver  all  empty ! 

O  my  husband,  return, 

Although  I  am  timid  to  meet  thee ! 
One  more  river  awaits  my  feet, 

To  tell  him  all  I  have  hidden; 
Strength  has  come  for  the  trial  at  last, 

Although  he  should  never  forgive  me. 
Grant  me,  Heaven,  my  husband's  love, 

And  slay  those  lions  between  us !" 

"Now  I  can  sleep,"  she  thought, 

"But  first  I  will  look  through  the  window." 
Fear  had  perished,  and  pity  was  hers 

At  a  sight  she  beheld  in  the  dawning. 
Like  as  a  beetle  that  flies  at  a  flame 

From  afar,  from  the  outside  darkness, 
Scorched  by  the  blaze  it  thought  to  enjoy, 

Drops  down  and  crawls  on  the  flooring, 


156  The  Galdrakcris  Daughter. 

Seeking  a  lonely  grave 

In  the  dust  and  dirt  of  a  corner, 

So  her  mother,  purpose  destroyed, 
Was  creeping  in  pain  to  the  mountain. 


V. 

She  slept,  this  daughter  of  sorrow, 

As  real  life  opened  before  her, 
Slept  as  a  babe  will  sleep, 

New  born  into  life  out  of  chaos. 
Noon  came.    Still  she  was  resting, 

But  soon  was  aroused  by  the  infant, 
Crying  for  hourly  care. 

The  sun  fell  bright  on  the  carpet, 
And  all  things  round  her  glowed  with  the  light 

That  answered  the  warmth  in  her  bosom  ; 
Warmth?    Yes,  courtship  anew, 

With  all  of  its  doubts,  misgivings, 
With  all  its  terrible  shyness, 

And  endless  ebbing  and  flowing, 
With  aJl  its  fervor  that  drives  it  to  speak, 

Was  slowly  returning  upon  her. 

An  hour  of  thought  slipped  by. 

She  thrilled  with  a  sudden  emotion, 
Knowing  the  step  at  the  door,  his  step, 

And  hearing  the  voice  of  her  husband, 
"Mary,  come  hither,  my  wife!" 

"My  husband !"  as  swift  he  embraced  her. 
He  scanned  her  face  like  a  book, 

And  read  there  faithful  endeavor, 


A   Story  of  Temptation.  /J7 

And  something  mystic  and  new  withal ; 

Her  eyes  were  timid  and  downcast. 
Sitting  together  they  waited  and  clung, 

And  each  sought  words  that  he  found  not. 


"Harold,"  she  struggled  at  last  to  say, 

And  her  heart  tossed  wildly  within  her, 
"I  am  abased  in  ashes  and  dust, 

And  scarce  can  I  plead,  'Forgive  me !' 
Something  ever  I  sinned  to  hide, 

Yet  feared  heart's  death  should  I  tell  it, 
Something  terrible,  sharp  as  a  knife 

To  sunder  lover  and  lover ! 
O  my  husband,  kiss  me  again ! 

Perchance  thou  never  wilt  love  me !" 
Thus  far  speaking,  she  fell  into  tears 

To  see  him  smiling  upon  her, 
Sadly,  tenderly,  thankful  at  heart 

To  find  his  petition  so  answered. 
She,  his  wife,  had  broken  the  lock 

That  fastened  her  soul  from  its  lover ! 

"Mary,  speak  and  tell  me  the  whole, 

But  fear  no  evil  in  telling. 
Methinks  I  have  heard  thy  story, 

And  find  no  need  to  forgive  thee, 
Seeing  thine  eyes,  sweet  pledge  of  the  trust 

That  once  I  craved  but  I  found  not ! 
Speak,  make  easy  thy  heart. 

Thy  lips  shall  give  me  the  story." 
"What,  my  lover!  and  what  hast  thou  heard, 

And  still  canst  hold  me  and  love  me  ?" 


The  Galdrakeri s  Daughter. 

And  thus  he  told  her  the  whole, 

How  once  in  the  years  of  his  childhood, 
When  father  had  left  him  asleep, 

And  mother  was  sobbing  and  crying, 
He  woke  and  crept  to  the  door, 

And  heard  things  never  forgotten, 
Though  ne'er  understood,  (so  young!) 

How  one  she  had  crossed  in  her  girlhood 
Found  her,  cursed  her,  gave  her  to  fear 

That  the  life  of  her  boy  was  ruined, 
If  ever  that  woman  with  witch-like  craft 

Should  live  to  finish  her  plotting. 

"But  never,"  he  said,  "though  puzzled  in  love, 

Did  I  link  my  wife  with  the  story, 
Until  one  night  in  the  spring 

I  heard  thee  tossing  and  sighing, 
Moaning  in  sleep  strange  things 

Of  'vengeance'' and  'pity  the  stranger!' 
I  doubted,  and  something  sealed  my  lips. 

Forgive  me  ne'er  to  have  asked  thee !" 

Then  did  he  tell  her  the  morn  in  the  woods, 

The  hag,  her  sinister  feature, 
All  her  story  of  sin, 

That  smacked  on  her  lips  like  a  morsel, 
All  her  scorn  and  vaunted  revenge, 

That  left  him  wondering,  hoping, 
Trembling  at  last  lest  horror  be  true, 

And  ruin  await  his  returning. 
"Tell  me,  Mary,  the  truth." 

"It  is  true,"  she  replied.     "O  husband, 


A   Story  of  Temptation. 

I  am  abased  and  covered  with  shame 
To  think  I  have  looked  in  the  chasm, 

Lingered,  and  stumbled,  and  none  but  God 
Has  saved  me  here  till  the  morning!" 

Then  she  told  him  the  night  just  passed. 

They  knelt  and  prayed  in  the  sunlight. 
Something  smiled  in  heaven  above 

To  see  them  bowing  together, 
As  all  the  love  they  had  stifled  in  fear 

Gasped  forth  into  life  in  a  moment. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "let  us  go  to  the  mountain, 

For  there  one  sufrereth  lonely, 
Broken  in  body  and  heart, 

And  what  though  I  hated  and  feared  her? 
Come,  my  Harold."    "Yea,  dear  wife, 

Lead  on ;  I  gladly  will  follow." 
And  so  with  a  hand  in  hand 

They  followed  the  path  to  the  mountain, 
Carrying  softly  the  boy, 

Bereft  no  more  of  his  birthright. 
They  traveled.    Nature  was  glad, 

And  tuned  her  heart  with  the  joyous. 
Birds  sang;  nature  was  glad, 

But  it  mocked  if  any  had  sorrow ! 
They  climbed  by  the  path  of  the  goat, 

That  seldom  was  trod  by  a  human, 
Grasping  the  bushes  and  picking  their  way, 

For  ahead  in  the  earth  there  were  footprints. 
Like  as  an  elephant,  sick  unto  death, 

Forsaketh  the  band  of  his  fellows, 


160  The  Galdrakeii  s  DaitgJitcr. 

Labors  alone  through  Afric's  woods, 

Nor  dares  to  rest  in  his  journey, 
Hastening  on  to  deposit  his  tusk 

Where  the  bones  of  his  kindred  are  bleaching; 
So  this  woman  in  life's  last  hour 

Had  crept  far  above  to  the  mountain, 
Seeking  a  grave  where  none  might  know 

But  Solitude,  friend  of  her  girlhood. 

So  she  awaited  her  death, 

But  death  not  so  was  her  portion, 
For  there  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff 

The  couple  had  come  with  the  infant, 
And  searched  now  this  way,  that  way ; 

Along  where  the  rock  overhangeth 
They  found  her.     Strange  was  the  look 

When  eye  met  eye  and  remembered ! 

"Come,"  she  whispered,  "for  I  am  a  shadow  ! 

Ye  need  not  trample  upon  me ! 
Something  has  brought  you  hither. 

I'm  willing  to  speak,  I  am  willing !" 
"Mother,  'tis  pity  that  brought,"  she  said, 

"For  I  am  a  link  in  the  fetter 
That  bound  thee  fast  to  despair, 

And  now  I  am  fain  to  release  thee. 
Wilt  thou,  canst  thou  listen  ?" 

"Too  late,  my  child ;  it  is  over ! 
Once  I  was  married  to  hate, 

And  now,  hate's  widow,  I  perish ! 
Sir !  thou  hast  courted  my  daughter, 

And  stolen  her  heart  till  it  loves  thee, 


A    Story  of  Temptation.  161 

Hast  made  it  a  rose,  not  a  thorn ; 

And  now  that  I  must, — I  forgive  thee ! 

"Come,  bring  hither  the  babe. 

I  dare  not  take  it  and  kiss  it, 
For  fear  some  strength  return  to  my  hands, 

And  I  pluck  it  asunder  in  madness ; 
But  lay  it  across  my  feet, 

That  so  I  may  feel  of  its  body, 
And  so  in  the  years  to  come 

Thou  tell  him  his  grandmother  knew  him. 
Thus  ! — And,  sir,  bring  hither — 

Thy  hand  ?    Nay !  only  the  kerchief 
Whereon  thou  hast  wept;  across  mine  eyes, 

Come,  lay  it,  a  token  of  meeting. 
Thus  ! — And,  sir,  that  mother  of  thine 

Was  less  of  a  fiend  than  I  feigned  her ! 
All !  it  has  sapped  my  strength, 

This  speaking !    Now  it  is  over. 
Bury  me  here  in  the  mountain, 

And  let  no  monument  name  me. 
Fare  you  well!"  She  had  finished. 

Her  breath  sank  low  till  it  perished, 
And  thus  her  wandering  life  was  o'er. 

The  white  cloth  covered  her  features. 

Silence,  silence  and  hush  ! 

They  arose  and  buried  her  softly, 
Saving  her  last-told  wish. 

They  marked  on  the  cliff,  "One  resteth." 
"Husband,"  Mary  began, 

"This  night  we  abide  on  the  mountain." 


162  The  Galdraken '  s  DaugJiter. 

"Yea,  dear  heart,  it  is  well,"  he  said. 

They  laid  them  down  in  the  shelter, 
And  looked  at  the  ocean  sun, 

That  sank  and  reddened  the  heavens. 
Southward  spires  of  the  city  arose, 

And  glowed  in  the  light  of  the  even. 
Down  in  the  vale,  half  hid  in  the  grove, 

Behold  their  haven,  the  cottage, 
While  all  the  earth  had  pensive  repose, 

And  spoke  of  the  heart  that  warmed  it. 

"Harold,  a  new  thing  comes  to  my  lips ! 

I  love  my  mother  who  bore  me ! 
All  her  life  was  sundered  in  twain, 

The  fierce  with  the  pity  contending, 
And  pity  has  conquered  at  last, 

Yet  so  as  by  fire,  my  husband !" 
"Mary,"  he  softly  said, 

"Thy  words  bring  peace  that  endureth ! 
Behold  yon  love  in  the  sky !" 

Then  silence  reigned  till  the  even. 
Night  stole  softly  around  them, 

A.nointing  the  earth  with  its  beauty, 
And  still  they  rested  in  love's  sweet  dream, 

The  first  day  of  heaven  for  mortals. 


Lyrics  of  a  Life. 


163 


CRADLE  SONG. 


Sleep,  my  babe, 

Ere  the  sun  mount  high, 
Or  it  cometh  the  day 

After  dreaming-time. 

Sleep,  my  babe, 
In  the  cool  of  life ; 

Too  soon  thou  must  wake 
When  it's  weeping-time. 

Years  they  are  many 

Of  nobling  strife 
Ere  the  hoary  rest 

Of  the  evening-time, 

And  the  evening  twilight's 

Hush — oh,  stay  ! 
Mother  is  by  thee, 

Sleep,  my  babe ! 

165 


1 66  Lyrics  of  a  Life. 

A  CHILD'S  PRAYER. 

Dear  God,  kiss  mamma  good  night  for  me, 
'Cause  you  know  she's  gone  away. 

It's  the  first  time  ever  she's  went  off 
To  stay  away  all  day. 

And  it's  awful  lonesome  here,  you  know, 
When  mamma's  not  at  home. 

I  just  can't  have  my  good  night  kiss, 
Fse  got  to  go  'sleep  all  alone. 

So,  please,  You  kiss  her  good  night  for  me 
And  say  who  it's  from,  and  then — 

Oh!  now  I  guess  you'se  done  it,  dear  God! 
Thank  you.     Good  night.     Amen  ! 


QUESTIONINGS. 

I  stand  at  the  threshold  of  life, 

The  pathway  dimly  I  see, 
Dawning  sense  of  a  childhood  flown, 
Sense  of  a  future  nigh,  unknown. 

Ah !  what  is  in  store  for  me  ? 

Where  is  the  girl — now  born — 

Whom  as  yet  I  never  have  seen  ? 
Where  is  the  home  so  fair 

That  as  yet  is  only  a  dream? 
W'ltiere  is  the  heart  to  endure 

If  the  valley  be  deep  with  sorrow? 
Where  is  the  lantern  ?     Whither  my  feet, 

To-morrow,  ay!  to-morrow?' 


A   Life  Alone.  167 

A  LIFE  ALONE. 

The  earth  was  singing  with  nesting  birds 

When  the  little  leaves  open  and  curl, 
But  a  bird  of  the  other  world  came  nigh, 

And  left  two  eggs  of  pearl. 

Now  one  was  broke  by  a  careless  foot, 

The  other  one  basked  in  the  heat, 
And  the  little  bird  came  and  grew  and  throve, 

And  its  twitter  was  heavenly  sweet. 

But  all  of  its  life  it  mourned  and  pined 

At  morning  and  noon  and  late, 
And  it  sang,  "Oh,  where?  Oh,  where?  Oh,  where? 

My  mate !  my  mate !  my  mate !" 


LENORA. 

What  of  thy  soul,  Lenora? 

Is  it  the  soul  I  love? 
Is  it  the  one  that  has  waited  for  me, 
I  for  thee, 

Led  by  the  power  above? 

Dare  I  to  dream,  Lenora, 

What  I  have  guessed  be  true? 

Welding  heat  'neath  the  maiden  smile, 

Bashful  guile, 
Hiding  a  treasure  new  ? 


1 68  Lyrics  of  a  Life. 

SONG  IN  IONIC  RHYTHM. 

In  the  night-time,  in  the  night-time, 
When  the  night-bird  is  a-lonely, 
For  a  hushed  love  I  am  longing, 
For  a  long  love  I  am  yearning. 
In  the  darkness,  in  the  stillness, 
I  am  longing,  I  am  yearning 

For  the  soft  breast  of  my  dear  one, 

For  the  warm  bosom  of  my  loved  one. 
In  the  night-time,  in  the  night-time, 
When  the  air  breathes  at  the  window, 
For  a  still  kiss  I  am  longing, 

For  a  long  kiss  I  am  praying; 
In  the  darkness,  in  the  stillness, 
I  am  longing,  I  am  praying 
For  a  love-clasp  most  holy, 
For  a  silence  most  true. 

I  have  found  thee,  I  have  found  thee, 
My  beloved  one,  mine  espoused! 
And  the  night  air  bringeth  perfume, 

And  the  night-bird  singeth  softly; 
In  the  darkness,  in  the  stillness, 
I  am  nestling,  I  am  praying 

On  the  pure  breast  of  my  new  one, 

On  the  warm  bosom  of  mine  own  one ! 
I  have  found  thee,  I  have  learned  thee, 
For  thy  heart  heaves  to  caress  me  ! 

With  a  warm  kiss  I  have  pressed  thee, 

With  a  long  kiss  I  have  hushed  thee  ! 
In  the  dark  night,  in  the  long  night 

I  have  found  thee,  I  have  learned  thee; 
I  am  clasping  thy  heart-throbs 
In  the  silence  so  true  ! 


A  Cry. 


A  CRY. 


Oh  !  let  me  not  die  yet, 

O  God,  for  I  have  not  loved ! 

O  God,  for  I  have  not  loved ! 
What  was  is  now  no  more, — 
Not  saved  on  the  yonder  shore, 

But  faded,  turned  to  naught ! 

But  faded,  turned  to  naught ! 
God !  let  me  not  die  yet ! 

I  fain  would  live 
Till  life  doth  give — 

Ah  me! 

Ah  me! 

Some  flower's  birth 
To  take  from  earth, — 

Ah  me,  if  not ! 

Ah  me! 


BIRTH  AND  THE  POET. 


God  sent  the  poet  pain — he  knew  not  why. 
He  humbly  spake,  and  when  the  hour  was  o'er 
His  bosom  swelled,  remembering  not  the  woe, 
For  joy  that  a  song  was  born  into  the  world. 


I  jo  Lyrics  of  a  Life. 


A  BACHELOR'S   LONGING. 

I  am  without  a  compass.     Plans  may  come, 
May  go,  how  best  to  cross  the  sea  of  life. 
This  port,  yon  haven — hither,  there  I  turn. 

0  lover,  come,  to  be  my  guiding-  star ! 

1  scan  the  world  of  faces ;  none  reply. 
My  love  for  love  goes  baffled  all  the  day. 
Unmated  still  I  wander.     Life  flows  by. 

O  lover,  come,  to  be  my  guiding  star ! 


WHEN  PATIENCE  STARVES. 

As  tender  shepherd  cares  for  helpless  flock, 
With  shelter,  food,  protection,  words  of  love, 
That  he  may  reap  the  wool  for  selfish  gain — 
Oh,  dare  I  ask  if  God  be  such  to  us  ? 

As  farmer  careth  for  his  fattening  swine, 
With  surf  citings  of  food  and  swinish  joy, 
To  make  more  carcass  for  the  butcher's  knife- 
Oh,  dare  I  ask  if  God  be  such  to  us  ? 

As  men  of  worth,  who  claim  to  live  by  love, 
Will  set  decoys  and  shoot  the  innocent  wild, 
To  taste  the  joy  of  power,  wanton  sport — 
Oh,  dare  I  ask  if  God  be  such  to  us ! 


The  Return  of  Faith. 


THE  RETURN  OF  FAITH. 

Spirit  aweary  ? 
Face  thy  doubt. 

Heavy  the  heart-ache? 
Wander  without. 

Long  is  the  life-ache? 
Lost  thy  God  ? 

Look  and  behold  thy  dawn. 

Sweet  is  the  moonlight, 
God,  thou'rt  there! 

Sweet  is  the  snow-light, 
God,  thou'rt  fair ! 

Sweet  is  the  faith-light 
Dawning  afar, 

Deep,  undreampt  in  the  heart. 


ABASHED. 

Let  triflers  tell  their  passion  undismayed. 
With  heart  that  crieth,  dumb  with  love  I  stand, 
Most  dreading  what  I  crave.     To  falter  still 
I'm  not  ashamed,  nor  fear  to  fail  at  last : 

For  even  God,  abashed  to  tell  His  love, — 
The  love  He  craved — restrained  His  waiting  hand 
From  making  man,  his  doubtful  heart  to  woo, 
Till  half  of  all  eternity  was  past. 


1 7 2  Lyrics  of  a  Life. 


THREE  GREETINGS. 

In  thine  a  stranger's  hand. 
Thou  feelst  the  touch, 
It  is  not  much  ; 
Naught  concealing, 
Naught  revealing, 
Thine  own,  his  fingers  folded  o'er, 

Can  feel  the  flesh,  and  little  more; 
For  human  brotherhood  one  kindly  thrill, 
And  then  and  flesh  and  heart  are  still. 

In  thine  a  lover's  hand. 

'Tis  not  the  flesh  alone  doth  press, 
The  soul  doth  through  the  flesh  confess. 
Naught  concealing, 
All  revealing, 

Thy  hand  in  thorough  peace  doth  rest. 
No  doubt  creeps  in  between  the  fingers  pressed. 

But  think  how  one  time  there  it  lay, 

Half  disclosing,  half  dissembling, 
Trembling  lest  it  give  away 

The  secret  of  its  trembling. 
Half  in  pleasure,  half  in  fright, 

The  heart  its  bounding  hushes. 
'Twixt  caring  naught  and  fearing  naught 

Is  the  realm  of  dread  and  blushes. 


At  Rest.  if 3 


AT  REST. 


My  hand  I  lay  in  thine,  my  love, — 
A  tired  hand,  that  long  has  striven, 
A  restless  hand,  forever  driven; 
My  hand  I  lay  in  thine,  my  love, 
And  rest  which  floweth  from  above, 
To  us  is  given, 
To  us  is  given. 

My  heart  to  thine,  my  own,  I  press, — 
Once  tossing  heart,  by  tumult  riven, 
Once  lonely  heart,  no  anchor  given ! 
My  heart  to  thine,  my  own,  I  press, 
While  peace  which  Heaven  stoops  to  bless 
To  us  is  given, 
To  us  is  given. 

My  lips  on  thine  shall  rest,  my  dear, — 
These  faltering  lips,  that  ill  have  spoken, 
These  yearning  lips,  that  crave  a  token ; 
My  lips  on  thine  shall  rest,  my  dear. 
That  perfect  love  which  casts  out  fear 
To  us  is  given, 
To  us  is  given. 


Lyrics  of  a  Life. 


THE  LOVE-LIGHT. 


Like  sunshine  fair,  so  shineth  love. 

As  light  to  earth  is  given, 
So  love  to  life,  that  we  may  see 

Earth's  toil  illumed  of  heaven. 


But  gaze  not  always  at  the  sun, 

However  fair,  it  blindeth  ! 
'Tis  earth, — with  landscape,  flower  and  sky, 

Through  light  its  beauty  findeth. 

And  dream  not  simply  of  love's  vows, 

Caresses  long  and  tender, 
'Tis  life's  hard  task  and  commonest  round, 

Love's  light  shall  beauteous  render! 


Lover's  Puzzle. 


LOVER'S  PUZZLE. 


I  have  a  pair  of  eyes,  oh,  yes ! 

They're  black,  though  mine  are  born  blue,  'tis  strange; 

Can  you  guess  the  riddle  of  such  a  change? 
Can  you  guess  ?     Can  you  guess  ?     Oh,  yes  !  Oh,  yes ! 
Any  lover  should  guess ! 

The  black  that  are  mine  because  they're  thine, 

Whatever  of  good  they  see, 

Of  pure  and  of  true,  whatever  it  be, 

E'en  so  by  me  shall  accounted  be, 

For  what  my  blindness  never  would  see 

Thou,  my  seer,  shalt  find  for  me. 
Thy  seeings,  love,  are  mine. 

And  the  blue  eyes,  too,  that  I  keep  for  you 

Naught  that's  by  or  forbidden  shall  view, 
Naught  that's  stranger  to  love's  own  law, 
Naught  that  the  black  would  blush  if  they  saw, 

For  love  is  pure  and  true. 


Lyrics  of  a  Life. 


GOD  OF  THE  MOONLIGHT. 

God  of  the  moonlight,  God  of  the  light! 

Strange  is  the  beauty  around  me  to-night. 

Out  through  the  window  my  vision  is  ravished ; 

Over  the  earth  a  richness  is  lavished. 

Soft  through  the  trees  the  radiance  streams ; 

Flecked  are  the  leaves  with  the  willowy  beams. 

Such  is  the  earth,  in  glory  bedight, 

God  of  the  moonlight,  God  of  the  light ! 

God  of  the  moonlight,  God  of  the  light ! 

Sorrow  and  doubt  have  taken  their  flight. 

Down  from  above  the  brightness  is  pouring ; 

Gently  from  care  a  spirit  is  soaring. 

All  is  peace  in  the  valley  of  doubt ; 

All  is  at  rest  in  the  world  without. 

Is  it  the  earth,  or  heaven  in  sight, 

God  of  the  moonlight,  God  of  the  light? 

God  of  the  moonlight,  God  of  the  light ! 

I  am  alone  but  happy  to-night. 

Now  through  the  soul  tender  longings  are  flitting; 

Here  at  my  side  no  loved  one  is  sitting, 

No  loved  fingers  pressing  my  own, — 

Ah !  in  this  world  I  am  not  alone ! 

SHE  is  remembering!  all  will  be  right, 

God  of  the  moonlight,  God  of  the  light ! 


A    Song  of  Tide. 


A  SONG  OF  TIDE. 


The  ocean  of  water  is  full,  is  full ! 
When  billows  break  along  the  shore, 
Majestic  with  tempestuous  roar, 
And  tide  advances  more  and  more, 

The  ocean  of  water  is  full. 


The  ocean  of  water  is  always  full. 

Though  billows  cease  to  plunge  and  leap, 
And  silence  reigns  o'er  all  the  deep, 
Though  tide  sinks  low  adown  the  steep, 

The  ocean  is  really  full. 


The  ocean  of  love  is  full,  is  full ! 

When  fervent  glows  the  throbbing  heart, 
And  thrills  of  rapture  start  and  dart, 
When  spirits  vow  no  more  to  part, 

The  ocean  of  love  is  full. 


That  ocean  of  love  is  always  full. 
When  life  is  calm,  with  nothing  new, 
E'en  dark  with  sorrow's  somber  hue, 
If  purpose  bideth  fast  and  true, 

The  ocean  is  really  full. 


178  Lyrics  of  a  Life. 


LOVERS'  RICHES. 


Is  it  for  us  that  the  katydid  sings, 

My  dearest,  O  my  dearest? 
Is  it  for  us  that  the  twilight  glows 
Soft  on  the  trees,  and  the  moonlight  flows, 
Down  through  the  daylight's  'minishing  tide, 
While  we  are  wandering,  side  by  side, 

My  dearest,  O  my  dearest ! 


Is  it  for  us  that  the  darkness  falls, 

My  dearest,  O  my  dearest? 
Is  it  for  us  that  the  hush  is  long, 
Sweeter,  stiller  for  the  night-bird's  song, 
Caroling  afar  where  his  loved  ones  bide, 
While  we  are  listening,  side  by  side, 

My  dearest,  O  my  dearest ! 


Is  it  for  us  that  the  dawn  comes  gray, 

My  dearest,  O  my  dearest? 
Is  it  for  us  that  the  clouds  hang  low, 
Falling  in  raindrops,  pattering  slow, 
Soothing  and  wooing  the  heart  to  rest, 
While  we  are  safe  in  the  small  home  nest, 

My  dearest,  O  my  dearest ! 


Sweet  Jealousy. 

Is  it  for  us  that  the  snow  lies  fair, 

My  dearest,  O  my  dearest? 
Is  it  for  us  that  the  sun  breaks  through, 
Purpling  the  shadows  to  dreamland's  hue, 
Bearing  the  heart  on  phantasy's  wings, 
Leading  us  on  to'the  soul  of  things, 

My  dearest.  O  my  dearest ! 


L  ENVOI. 

Why  is  earth  if  not  for  purpose? 

What  its  purpose  but  a  soul  ? 
We  are  rich,  in  full  possession 

Of  creation's  answering  whole. 


SWEET  JEALOUSY. 


Mary,  my  only  love, 

Shall  I  crown  thee  mother  and  queen? 

Thou'lt  love  the  child,  not  me, 

Oh  Mary,  Mary,  Mary! 

Ay,  Mary,  my  only  love, 
So  be,  for  thy  heart  shall  grow 
Till  half  be  better  than  all, 
Dear  Mary,  Mary,  Mary ! 


i8o  Lyrics  of  a  Life. 


BABY  MAY. 

I  am  a  little  dead  baby, 

But  I  haven't  been  born  in  vain, 
I've  brought  to  the  earth  a  little  message, 

In  through  the  gates  of  pain. 

For  what  is  a  life  for,  anyway, 

Worthy  of  an  honest  pride, 
If  it  isn't  to  leave  things  better 

Because  we  have  lived  and  died  ? 

And  that  I  have  done  already ; 

People's  hearts  are  tenderer  grown ; 
They  think  stiller  thoughts  and  sweeter 

Because  I  have  come  and  flown. 


Bereavement.  181 


BEREAVEMENT. 


Tis  night,  and  distance  that  o'erwhelms  the  soul 

Before  us  is.     On  to  its  goal 
The  swift-winged  ray  the  mighty  span  has  made 

With  distant  tidings  lade: 
"That  star  is  far,  is  far !     Oh,  spare  the  tear, 

For  there  and  here 
One  Love  controls!"     In  fervent,  mute  appeal 

I  kneel ; 

I  upward  gaze  in  wonder  unexpressed, 
Poor  human  sight  is  lost  in  space — He  knoweth  best! 
I  find  in  presence  of  the  Mighty  One  a  perfect  rest. 


TIME. 


Time — it  is  long  and  stern  and  strong, 
Relentless  and  wise  and  kind. 

Hope — it  is  true,  ever  bubbling  anew. 
Twill  some  day  the  answer  find. 


i&2  Lyrics  of  a  Life. 

OPTIMISM. 

A  moment  of  joy  is  given, 
I  love  thee,  moment  of  joy. 

Pure  gold  from  the  throne  of  the  Heavens, 
Earth-tinged  with  a  precious  alloy. 

The  alloy  of  a  past  now  conquered, 
Though  heavy  with  pain  and  woe; 

The  alloy  of  a  grief-flecked  future, 
That  waiteth  upon  me,  I  know. 

Earth-tinged,  yes,  akin  to  me  mortal, 
A  child  of  my  life,  my  own. 

Made  bold,  my  faith  I  will  utter 
How  weal  for  the  ill  doth  atone. 

The  good  is  a  bit  of  the  changeless, 
The  ill  with  the  bearing  is  done. 

The  ill  is  the  sweat  of  the  running, 
The  good  is  the  goal  that  is  won. 

Though  the  scales  of  the  hour  weigh  falsely, 
The  scales  of  forever  are  true. 

''Twere  well  though  one  should  await  thee, 
Rare  moment,  a  whole  life  through. 

One  only?     Nay,  many  are  given, 
But  each,  unique  and  alone, 

Outweighs  all  sorrow  and  sighing, 
When  the  Sum  of  the  Ages  is  known. 


Noonday.  183 

NOONDAY. 

Battles  and  battles  and  wars ! 
Mid-life  is  a  harvest  of  wars ! 

War  with  the  famishing  wolf, 

War  with  the  doubts  and  fears, 
War  with  the  lust  of  the  flesh, 

War  with  the  weakening  years — 

Victory,    wreaths    and    rest ! 
The  eve  is  a  time  for  rest. 


THE  JOY  OF  TRYING. 

My  ambitions  came  and  kissed  me.     Flown,  ah !  flown 

Are  they,  save  thee,  my  very  little  one — 

And  thee!     I  could  not  follow  them  their  flight. 

To  others  they  arc  gone,  who,  nobly  led, 

Shall  soar  the  mountain  o'er,  where  I  have  failed. 

I'm  proud  and  glad  they  came  to  woo  me,  too. 

Unknown,  I'm  brother  to  the  victors  there! 


OLD  AGE. 

Oh !  let  me  grow  like  such  an  olive  tree ! 

I  saw  it  oft  on  Attica's  dry  plain — 
So  gnarled  and  thick,  so  pierced  with  honorable  holes, 

The  dignity  of  ages  in  its  mien ; 
Stub  two  yards  high,  all  obsolete  branches  gone, 
Yet  putting  forth  young  fruitful  boughs  each  year. 


184.  Lyrics  of  a  Life. 


LIFE  ETERNAL. 


The  candle  flared  in  the  wee,  small  breeze ; 

It  fluttered  and  gasped  for  breath, 
And  darkness  broke  where  the  light  had  shone, 

For  the  wind  had  blown  it  to  death. 


But  what  was  the  light  ?     Was  it  that  poor  flame 
That  leaped  for  a  time  and  died? 

Or  is  it  the  beam  that  still  speeds  on 
Through  the  universe  dark  and  wide? 


Not  lost,  though  shifting,  the  place  of  its  birth 

It  leaveth  for  paths  untried, 
And  the  eyes  of  the  stars  now  see  it  in  turn, 

And  shall,  while  the  heavens  abide. 


So  what  is  a  life?     Is  it  that  frail  breath 
That  mo  /eth  awhile  our  clay  ? 

Or  is  it  the  soul,  the  thinking  thought, 
That  liveth  and  moveth  for  aye? 


The  Departed.  185 


THE  DEPARTED. 


Dead !     Tis  a  nameless  thing,  and  o'er  my  grave 
The  mournful  pine  is  tossing.     Breezes  dried 
Their  tears  who  loved  me,  fallen  free ;  and  wild, 

Love-tokening  roses  bloom  and  mold  away. 

Now  faithful  hearts  are  chastened.     Hope  have  they 
Of  future  clasping.    Wonder  steals  if  I 
E'en  now  remember,  cherish — seeking  light 

Where  man  must  know  through  symbols  more  than  vagwe. 

I  wake  to  the  other  world,  but  dream  of  earth, 
True  dreams  of  all  ye  do  or  be,  for  rest 

E'en  here  in  heaven  doth  intervene  when  o'er 
The  raptured  throbbings  are,  ere  sweet  return. 

'Tis  a  dream  of  a  dream  doth  bless  thee  sleeping,  when 
Heaven-beckoning,  I  am  with  thee,  dear,  once  more. 


186  Lyrics  of  a  Life. 


TALENTS. 


If  you  were  a  star,  pray  what  would  you  do? 

If  I  were  a  star,  I'd  shine. 
If  you  were  a  vine,  then  what  would  you  do? 

I'd  climb,  if  I  were  a  vine. 
If  you  were  a  dew-drop,  what  would  you  do? 

If  a  dew-drop  I  were,  I'd  diamond  a  flower. 
If  you  were  a  rainbow,  what  would  you  do? 

If  a  rainbow  were  I,  I'd  smile  from  the  shower. 
Whatever  we  were,  we'd  do  our  best, 
And  leave  to  our  Father  in  heaven  the  rest; 

Whatever  we  be,  we'll  do  His  will, 

And  trust  to  His  loving-kindness  still. 


THE  END. 


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